Winter's Tale
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: John Bates is a thief on the run from his old boss and trying to steal enough to get by when he breaks into the house of consumptive heiress Anna Smith. When John meets Anna, it's love at first sight and John risks everything to be with Anna.
1. Prologue: Light

Everyone looks at the sky and thinks they are staring at balls of gas burning as suns in distant solar systems. They think about their life cycle and wonder if they are just beginning their life or near death. They wonder if there is life where those stars burn brightly, if somewhere beyond the atmosphere guarding our planet others look up and wonder the same about our sun.

But what if our stars are not just stars? What if they are the souls of the people who have passed on and moved to be our guides by night? Perhaps stars are merely the evidence of souls that we still see.

What most forget about it all of it is that we live in a world guided by light. Light guides us and directs us. But no matter where light is, darkness was first. The chaos that fights the order giving us balance in life.

That kind of influence drives some to fear, some to run, and some to fight.

When he was a child his parents sought safety in the new world. But infection in their lungs had the doctors writing 'P' on the back of their clothing. They had no choice but to board their boat with all their dreams in tatters in their hands.

His father paced the inside of the boat while his wife sorted out their position below. As he crossed in front of the captain's cabin he caught sight of a model of the very ship on whose decks they now stood. He walked into the room, wondering what drove him to seek this place, when he noted its size.

With an elbow he broke the glass. With borrowed tools he carved out the inside of the model ship. With his wife's help he fit his son securely inside the space. And with ropes they lowered their baby into the bay.

The little boat, carrying the crying child, floated to the docks. The tribes living there, sequestered away in the shantytowns and slums there, took him in. He joined the broods of more mothers than anyone has a right to have with more fathers than a single buttocks can bear when the brunt of a leather belt slaps it. But he had more love than any single family could have for him.

He grew up with more siblings over the entire city than anyone could ever have and that gave him more opportunities. As a child he danced and sang for the people on the streets. In the summer he did so with bare feet and banging. In the winter, he sang with holiday songs and whistles. With his siblings beside him they made money, both those things given and those taken.

Eventually his skills with his hands, his slips into coats and homes, and his fleet feet won him the wrong kind of attention. She picked him off the street, grabbing him from his family despite their warnings, and trained him to join her. To be her.

And he was. He was good. He was skilled. He was not bad enough.

He realized the evil that latched its claws into him. He realized the desperation of the world into which he had been sucked. And he realized he needed to escape.


	2. Break Away

He held his breath, listening for the sounds of soft breathing from the person next to him. Moving slowly he escaped the clutch of the blanket, landing on the floor with his sock-covered feet. With a slide he winced, barely missing the creak of a noisy board, and reached out for his bag.

Missing on the first swipe, he stretched his leg to adjust his weight over the floor and swiped again. He caught the bag, stopping it just before it hit the floor, and pulled it toward him. Creeping over the floor he worked himself through the crack in the door.

On the landing he eased his coat off the hook, working his arms through the sleeves before slinging the bag over his back. His feet worked gently on the floor to the window, climbing out with cat-like movements. His hand grabbed the wooden stake holding the pane open, catching it with his hand so it eased down to rest in the sill without a sound. The slippery surface of the roof almost caught him off guard but his bare feet grabbed at the roof shingles to crawl himself to the far side.

Once there he crawled over the ledge, hanging there before jumping for the next roof. His fingers caught, stopping his heart a moment when he slipped, but he pulled himself over the edge to land on the other side. He paused once there, massaging his feet to get warmth back before removing his shoes from his bag. Slipping them on his feet he tied them tight and stood.

Glancing back over his shoulder he noted no lights sparked in any of the windows. He kept low, bent toward the rooftop, and worked over to another wall. Swallowing, he rubbed his hands together before jumping upward. His fingers caught a window ledge and he used it to propel himself toward the higher roof.

As he reached the top his foot slipped and the shingle fell. It was as if the world silenced before the shingle crashed to the roof below. Lights lit the windows of the building he escaped. The noise reached him and he picked himself up to run as fast as he could over the roofs.

Thundering footsteps followed him, taking to the rooftops. He slid on some ice, stumbling slightly on the edge of a high building, but recovered enough to jump for a lower roof. Someone caught his arm but he yanked himself away, pushing his attacker off. The man fell from the roof with his scream ringing in his ears all the way down.

He finally reached the ground, catching himself before sprinting as quickly as possible toward the docks. Another hand grabbed at his coat but he spun with his elbow. A crunch under his elbow left the other man sprawling with a broken nose.

A leg tripped him. He only just managed to catch himself on his hands before the man grabbed the back of his coat. The force of it threw him into the wall.

He ducked the punch, the other man cried out as his knuckles hit the wall. Barreling forward with his shoulder he drove the man away, dropping him to a heap before tripping to the side, and dashed toward a large gate. The lock stopped him but he edged one side open to get his body through the space.

Shoving it back he caught another man in the face, forcing back his followers. He held it a moment before reaching over to an open toolbox. He grabbed a wrench, sliding it through the opening, and keeping the gates shut to the onslaught. But they started climbing the gate.

Running as fast as he could he tried to round a corner but skidded to a stop. He found his escape, over the edge of the dock, suddenly blocked by a gaggle of men stalking toward him. His heart thundered in his chest, blood rushing in his ears, and watched his possible escape slowly extinguished.

"Batesy, Batesy, Batesy." He closed his eyes, turning to see a woman approaching him, flanked by two lackeys. "They've ever been waiting to seize the chance to ruin you."

"That's why I ran." He hauled in deep breaths, "I don't need this anymore."

"We need you John." She clicked her tongue against her teeth, walking until she was less than a step away. "You need us the same way."

John shook his head, "I can't do this anymore Vera."

"But you're my husband John." Vera ran her finger over John's cheek but he flinched away from her. "You used to enjoy that."

"I used to enjoy a great number of things that I've realized are wrong Vera." John took a step away from her. "And I'm not your husband. We only sleep together Vera."

"Didn't you want to be my husband?" She gestured toward all the gathered people around them. "Don't you want to run all this with me?"

"No, I don't want this."

"Well," She sucked the inside of her cheek, "Then I guess, since you don't want to be here anymore, we'd better take care of that for you."

John dodged a grab by Vera's two lackeys and lost his footing. His arms pin-wheeled and he saw his life flash before his eyes. In that moment he met Vera's gaze before hitting the water.

* * *

She opened her eyes, breathing in the cold air before adjusting on her bed. The sheets draped around her flapped in the gentle breeze. Sitting up, she stretched and stood.

Making her way over the roof she pulled the door open, walking down the stairs to the interior of the house she made her way into the parlor. She sat herself on the piano bench, trilling her fingers over the keys, and set to playing a piece that had her arms flying in a rush.

The sound of the piece echoed over the room, setting the house alight with the music. A door creaked open behind her but she barely turned to register it. Someone placed a kiss on the top of her head before taking a chair in her line of sight. She finished the piece and smiled at him.

"How was that?"

"Brahms, I think."

"I asked _how_ was that, not _what_ was that." She stood, walking over to him to give a kiss to his temple. "And you're wearing your old coat again. I thought I had a new one made for you."

"I wear that one when I go to the paper and work. I wear this one at home because it's comfortable and your mother got it for me."

She kneeled before him, stroking over his hand. "I'm sorry the house is so cold for you."

"It's not your fault and I'd sacrifice the world for you Anna." He grasped her hand, kissing it before kissing her forehead. "I've a man who's coming by in a moment."

"What for?" She stood, taking a water pitcher with bits of ice floating in it, and pouring the contents into a glass.

"Your glasses."

"I told you," She took the chair opposite him, "I don't need them and there's no point to the expense."

"It's not expense. And if not for you then who do I spend money on?" Her father huffed, "We've this grand house, one up by the lake, and more money sitting in the bank. If I can't use any of it to spoil my daughters then how should I use it?"

"Open a library or start a university. Or leave it all to Gwen, it'll do her more good." Anna sipped at the water. "She's got a life ahead of her."

"And you don't?"

Anna did not respond as the butler entered, announcing a man carrying a case. She stood, leaving her water glass on the small table next to her chair, and waited for her father to shake the man's hand before moving closer to them. The man eyed her, swallowing, and she tried to suppress her grin.

"It's not contagious, sir. It's just fever."

"Begging your pardon, miss, but I know that. It's just…" He shrugged, "I recognized the flush in your cheeks. Reminded of my of sister."

"It took her?" The man nodded. "How long ago?"

"Two years now. It was sudden and she didn't suffer, so that was a comfort to our mother."

"I should hope a great many things bring comfort to mothers." Anna motioned for the man to follow her to a side table where he could rest his bag. "A great many things comforted mine."

"I can assume, if it's not too impertinent, that you were one of those things."

"I was." Anna stood still as the man drew out a few instruments and then held up a small piece toward her eye, like an insufficient magnifying glass.

"Better this way," He turned it, "Or this?"

"The first."

He set it down and selected another, "First or second?"

"Second."

"Perfect." He made a note, "I could have these ready by tomorrow morning."

"There's no rush." Anna smiled at him, "I have no real need for them."

"Then-" The man looked at Anna's father, "Can I ask why I'm here then if you don't need glasses?"

"Because my father wants the best for me and he believes I need them." Anna pointed around the room as she continued. "But I can see how the light comes from the window, hits the candelabra, reflects off the mirror, strikes the edge of the picture frame, and then shines through the water glass."

The optometrist paused, his mouth slightly open, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I know." Anna sighed, "But that's what the fever helps one see. The world shines all the brighter because of what we're aware of when we risk the reality that death is at our very doorstep."

"It's certainly a perspective that I don't have." The man nodded his head to her. "But I will have them ready for you tomorrow morning."

"Thank you." Anna extended a hand to the man, "You're very kind to come and endure our very cold house this early in the morning."

"It was no trouble." The man took his things, packed his bag, and left the house.

Anna turned to her father, "You really didn't need to get a man for glasses."

"As I said, I don't have time to spend all my money before I die."

"You certainly have too much to spend it all before I die."

"Anna," Her father took her hands, "I wish you wouldn't talk like this."

"Father," She kissed his hands, "I think we need to make ourselves realize the reality that I'm dying and my time is short."

"And how will we realize that?"

"By accepting that maybe we should spend our time, and not your money, on enjoying what we have now." Anna tugged on his hand, "Come on. Gwen'll drag herself from bed by now and join us for breakfast."


	3. First Light

He pulled himself from the water, sucking cold air into his lungs, and shivered while trying to find his feet. Stumbling on the dock he coughed, hacking water from his lungs before vomiting. A strong hand at his back ejected the water while almost tumbling him to the ground.

"You used to be better on your feet after a swim there John."

John looked over his shoulder at the woman, still wheezing through the burn in his throat to continue coughing. "I haven't held my breath like that in a long time."

"Not many chances for swimming while working for that woman?" The woman snorted, "I could've told you that. Along with all the warnings we gave you."

"I know." John stood, stretching a moment before his whole body shivered. "And, like an idiot, I didn't listen."

"We all have times we choose not to listen John." The woman pulled at his sleeve, "But you'd better come with me before you freeze in these clothes."

"Is Mr. Carson around?"

"He's off at his stall."

John kept pace with the smaller woman, "And how've you been Mrs. Hughes?"

Mrs. Hughes barked out her laugh, "You haven't called me 'Mrs. Hughes' since we first had you at our table when you were just a boy."

"I feel about that foolish now." John shook his head, "She'll get word I'm still alive and come for me so I can't stay."

"Her kind doesn't come here." Mrs. Hughes motioned around them at the shantytown built with ramshackle huts and tin siding acting the part of wall or roof. "She knows they'd never get out alive."

"What if she comes and burns the place to the ground?"

"Then we rebuild." Mrs. Hughes pulled into a small lean-to, "It's what kind like ours does."

"River people?"

"Immigrants." She held up a shirt and pair of trousers. "These should fit you. Might be a little tight in the shirt and long in the leg but Mr. Carson's been needing to get rid of them for an age and now I've got an excuse."

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes." John went to change, pulling his wet shirt over his head as Mrs. Hughes kept her back to him. "You're always too kind to me."

"Maybe I should've take the strap to you a few more times and you wouldn't have fallen under the spell of that viper." John cringed at the tone in Mrs. Hughes's voice, "She's the devil incarnate that woman."

"If I remember your reading of the Bible then we're all liable to be tempted by the devil." John snarked, pausing while buttoning his trousers, "Though I thought the Devil was a man."

"Don't sass me John Bates."

"Yes ma'am." John grinned at her, "You can turn around now."

Mrs. Hughes eyed him up and down, "You fill those out alright."

"Better than I did the last time I was here." John pointed to a chair and Mrs. Hughes nodded. "I need to get out of town."

"Where would you go?"

"Maybe Baltimore or even as far south as Florida."

Mrs. Hughes took her own chair, "It is warmer down there."

"So I've heard but I've never even left this city." John waited a beat, "Do you think I should?"

"I think you should do what's best for you."

"Would you miss me if I left?"

"I missed you when you were only a neighborhood away in this city." Mrs. Hughes pursed her lips, "How're you going to get yourself south of the city when've you got no money?"

"I could get there. I'm resourceful."

"You are that but you couldn't get enough money with your she-devil breathing down your neck here."

"Any suggestions?"

"I'm not one who recommends you do what you're good at when it's not legal," Mrs. Hughes flexed her jaw, "But I tend to believe in different levels of sin and your smaller sins to stay alive are definitely allowed by me."

"You're not the one risking it all if you get nabbed by any of the coppers."

"No but then maybe you should consider the safety of a cell."

"With the friends she has?" John clicked his tongue against his teeth, "I wouldn't survive a week in any prison."

"Then don't get yourself caught John." Mrs. Hughes winked, "You were always a good boy and I wish you live long enough to see that in yourself."

* * *

Anna looked up as the door opened, smiling at the outline in the sheets as she put her book down. A hand pulled it aside and Anna waved the young woman forward. "Are you going to join me or not?"

"I didn't want to wake you. Papa says you need your sleep." The young woman climbed onto the bed and Anna adjusted the girl's fur hat over her head.

"It's too cold out here for you, Gwen."

"But not you." Gwen sniffed and Anna pulled a handkerchief up to dry her eyes. "Dad says you mentioned death again today."

"It's how it's all going Gwen." Anna stroked Gwen's red hair. "We both know that what I have is going to take me."

"You don't have to be so glib about it." Gwen wiped at her eyes, "I don't want you to die Anna."

"I don't want to die."

"You will though."

"We're all going to die Gwen. Life is death." Anna urged Gwen to join her at the head of the bed and they both lay back. "All those stars up there are lights that twinkle out when they die. But then we'll just see new ones that spring up in their place."

Gwen laid her head on Anna's shoulder, "No one will spring up in your place."

"Probably not but that doesn't mean you won't find something that make you smile again." Anna ran a finger down Gwen's cheek, managing a grin at her. "One day you'll meet a man who'll love you to pieces and you'll have beautiful, red-headed children to run around your legs and give you worries and gray hairs until they get gray hairs of their own when they give you grandchildren."

"They still won't replace you."

"Of course not. But the light they bring to you'll make you feel better in the moments you feel a bit sad." Anna snuggled with Gwen, "And you'll name one of them Anna and she'll be your new light. All of them will."

"Exactly how many children do you think I'll have?" Gwen tickled at Anna and she fought back.

"Ten, definitely."

The two of them giggled and tickled one another until Gwen's nose turned red and Anna interrupted their game, "You've got to get inside before you freeze."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Gwen kissed her cheek, "You're still coming to the lake with us?"

"Day after tomorrow."

Gwen nodded, "Once Papa gets your tent on the roof all managed."

"Once I've got a place to be cold enough, yes." Anna pushed her off the bed, "Go on, before you freeze up here."

"I could cuddle with you and be warm all night."

"We'll not risk it since you're going to the lake tomorrow. What will the poor Crawley's do if you're not there to boss around all those boys?"

Gwen giggled, hugging Anna tightly again, "Probably get themselves into more trouble."

"Go on then or else they'll be absolutely distraught." Anna grinned with Gwen as she vanished back inside the house. Anna lay back on her pillows, sighing to herself. "I know I'd be absolutely distraught."

* * *

John retied his bag strings and slipped it over his head before climbing out the window. He hung on the ledge a moment before releasing his fingers. Dropping to the ground below he rolled with the motion, using his shoulder to direct his landing. He dusted himself off, saluting to the house, "Thank you for your donations to the cause."

Shoving his hands in his pockets he walked up the street, craning his head back to try and see the tops of the large houses. The early morning light caught on one of the windows and he stumbled. He held up his hand to block the light, blinking against the glare.

Taking a step back he surveyed the house, nodding to himself. His head darted about, looking at the street, before he leapt the fence to land in the garden around the house. A quick peek around the house gave him no easy exit but a step backward had him unfurling his rope with a grapple on the end.

Swinging it a few times, the whooshing sound filling the quiet of the guard, he released and watched the grapple catch on the roof. He pulled it tight, gripping it solidly before he started climbing his way upward. Just before the top his foot slipped a moment and his knuckles whitened on the rope.

John let out a breath, regaining his footing and continued onto the roof. He slipped over the edge, leaning on it as he regained his breath, and frowned at the billowing sheets. With a duck of his head he noted the empty bed and the other paraphernalia one only ever saw in bedrooms.

Humming his confusion at the scene John turned to the door and walked toward it. Pulling on it he noted it opened without any resistance. Given the guards on the rest of the house John frowned before looking down. He bent, taking the piece of cloth in his hand, and snorted before making his way into the house while tucking the cloth into his pocket.

Carpeted floors muffled his shoes as he descended down the levels with quick looks in the rooms. Eventually he reached the ground floor, locating the study with a push of his hand against a door. John smiled to himself, pulling his bag from over his head, and pressed his ear to the safe.

His hand carefully settled on the door and then pressed momentarily to feel the possible security to it. With his other hand he settled his fingers on the dial. He closed his eyes, mind focusing entirely on the sound of the tumblers clicking, and sighed when it opened.

Before he could reach in something caught his eye. He turned to it, blinking away a sudden glare, and tried to get the spots from his eyes. Just as he turned back to the safe the furious beauty of a piano filled the air. John stopped, stepping back to the center of the study before going to the door. The music drew him down the hall to the parlor and what he saw there took his breath away.

An angelic beauty, with flying blonde hair, captivated the keys and John. He stepped forward, almost as if unconsciously pulled toward the woman. His foot came down on an exposed board and the squeak echoed over the room.

She turned in her seat, gasping at the sight of him. "Who are you?"

He held up his hands, "Don't be alarmed, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Aren't you?" She pointed to him, "How'd you break into the house?"

"The door on the roof was open." John dug the piece of cloth out of his pocket, "This was caught in the door."

"Oh," She breathed a little laugh, "I guess I let you in."

"Unintentionally." John walked forward slowly, putting the cloth on the piano. "But, if you did, then I've betrayed your hospitality."

"How'd you mean?"

"I came here to rob the place."

"Ah," She stood, pointing to him as she drew her finger from his head to his feet and back. "And is that still your intention?"

"What?"

"To rob the place?"

"Well," John shrugged, jerking his thumb behind him, "I left the safe in the study open but I didn't take anything so I guess I got distracted."

"Should I let you get back to your work?"

"You're much better company I think so I'll just close the safe and then be gone."

"Why not stay for tea?"

John laughed, scratching his head, "That's not what I expected you to say."

"Did you expect me to throw you out?"

"You'd be within your rights to shoot me."

"I don't own a gun. My father does but he's upstate with my sister."

"I had thought the place was deserted." John fumbled with his hands, "I wouldn't have come in if there was anyone here."

"That's kind of you, for a burglar."

"I'm a bit desperate but not that desperate." John went to walk away, "I'll get the safe and be on my way."

"No tea then?"

John stopped, "You're serious, about the tea?"

"I could use the company." She held out her hand to him, "I'm Anna, by the way, Anna Smith."

"John Bates, burglar."

"Not anymore, now you're my guest."

John snorted, following her into the kitchen.


	4. Tea for Two

Anna poured the tea into two cups before sitting across from John Bates as he continuously smoothed his hands over the legs of his trousers. She snickered at him, pointing to the cup, "It'll get too cold to drink if you just leave it there."

"You're not drinking yours either."

"I can't." Anna inhaled the steam from her tea, "I smell it and imagine what it must taste like because drinking it could kill me."

"Then why make it?"

"I like the fragrance. It's Chinese you know."

"I didn't." He took a sip, "I prefer English teas though."

"English teas all came from China, originally."

"I think I knew that." He took another sip before setting his cup back in the saucer. "If I can ask, how could it kill you?"

"What?"

"The tea." He pointed to it, "Why have it like a temptation?"

"Why avoid houses with people in them if you intend to steal anyway?" Anna smiled over the edge of her cup, taking another whiff before setting it down like his. "What difference does a person in the house make?"

"A lot." She opened her hands for him to continue and he coughed a laugh, "Do you really care about the details of theft?"

"I'd like to know details about you." She folded her arms on the table, leaning forward so her shoulders pressed forward. "I don't spend much time out in the world so you're the first person I've met outside my family circle since the eye doctor a week ago."

"I'm the first?" She nodded and he gave a louder laugh, raking his hair back, "Then I'm dismal company."

"I disagree."

"You do?"

"How often does the chance to meet a person, like yourself, with a questionable profession just stroll into my parlor for conversation?"

"If your father is a gun owner and protective then not often."

"No, not often." Anna traced the pattern on her cup, "It's nice to have company that doesn't treat me like an invalid."

"Should I treat you that way?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

John chewed at the edge of his mouth, "You've mentioned drinking your tea'll kill you and that those in this rather grand house treat you like an invalid so I'm almost compelled to ask…" Anna waited as his jaw wrapped over the words before he spoke. "What do you have?"

"Consumption."

John pointed at her, "You're consumptive."

"It's not contagious."

"I'm aware of what it is and isn't."

"Are you a doctor as well as a thief?"

"No," He grinned before his face fell a bit, "I grew up in a slum so I'm well acquainted with the darker side of life."

"You don't think I am do you?"

"I'd find it a bit hard to believe."

Anna shrugged, sitting back with her fingers playing over the tabletop as if composing at the piano. "My father runs a rather large newspaper and I sit in on the meetings he has with his journalists here."

"Which newspaper?"

"The City Pen."

John gaped, "You're one of those Smiths?"

"Guilty as charged."

"I love your father's paper. Used to read whatever snippets of it I could get when I was young."

"And now?"

"I've," John squirmed, "Run into a bit of trouble and so I haven't had much time for reading."

"That's a shame."

"It is. I love reading."

"Me too."

"What do you read?"

"Lately?" Anna sighed, "Medical journals and star charts."

"Because of your condition?"

Anna nodded, "My father's invested a great deal of money in seeking a cure for me and so I've done research of my own."

"Has it helped?"

"Not me but one day it might help someone else and I can dream for that." Anna paused, "It's the best we can all hope for. Leaving a better world for others above ourselves."

"I'm not sure I've ever thought about anyone else enough to think about what I'd leave them." John looked to the corner a moment, lifting a shoulder as it to shed a weight from his back. "I don't have anyone to leave anything to so I guess it never really mattered."

"No family or anything?"

"Not officially."

Anna smiled, "What's 'not officially' mean?"

John laughed with her, "I don't have any parents of my own."

"Everyone's got parents."

"Not me." John lifted a hand, "In a sense I had a father and a mother but I never met them. The people I call family found me floating in a boat in the harbor and took me in."

"Really?"

"I grew up in a community where every boy was my brother, every girl my sister, every woman my mother, and every man my father."

"Sounds inviting."

"It was a life and I loved it."

Anna narrowed her eyes, "Why use the past tense?"

"I left them when I shouldn't have and now I'm in the bind I have now."

"What kind of bind?"

"One where you don't walk away whole if they even let you walk away at all." John waved his hands, "I don't need to bore you with my problems."

"I don't mind." Anna clasped her hands together on the table to stop her composition, "It's nice to focus my thoughts on someone else for once."

"It's complicated but once I left my little home in the slums I wandered the streets. I earned money where I could and eventually I developed some skill as a pickpocket."

"A natural thief then?"

"I've always had a way of getting into things, knowing how things work, and just fixing things." John sighed, "I wanted to be a mechanic on a ship and sail the world."

"Why didn't you?"

"I got snatched up."

"By the police?"

"No," John shook his head, "By my current employer. Or, ex-employer if I can get away."

"Is he nasty?"

"She didn't like that I left her."

"Oh," Anna shrunk back a bit, "Then it's a lover's quarrel?"

"There'd have to be love involved for it to be that."

"Then you didn't love her?"

"I thought I did."

Anna frowned, "But now you don't?"

"I don't think I ever did."

"When did you realize your mistake?"

"I think it was when I came back from a score without blood on me." John bit his tongue, "All you need to know is that she's not a good person. She wanted blood and violence in ways I either didn't realize at first or refused to see."

"But you've left that?"

"Trying to." John rubbed his hands together, heaving with his whole body. "I figure I'll go south and hide away somewhere until she gets over it all and then maybe come back."

"Maybe come back?"

"I might find a life somewhere else."

"People don't find lives somewhere else once they've lived in this city, Mr. Bates."

"Don't they?"

Anna shook her head, "They can't. This city gets its claws into you and it tears the soul to leave it. I left for brief periods and it was as if my whole body cried out in agony to return."

John just stared at her, "That's poetic and beautiful."

"And sad, in its own way. But I believe places leave scars and imprints on our hearts the way people do." Anna bit back her smile, "Or can."

John shared her grin, "Yes they can."

"How long would you be gone, if you could leave?"

"Probably until next winter. Maybe beginning of summer. I don't know. She can hold a grudge with the best of them and I don't like the idea of spending my time too close to it."

"Then we'll have to say goodbye here."

"Why?"

Anna almost could not respond, the pain on his face too much for her heart. Coughing to find her voice she answered him, "Because, the doctor in Baltimore gave me eighteen months from my diagnosis. The one in Boston said six months. That was four months ago so, according to him, I'm already two months dead."

"You don't look dead."

"It's a confusing disease. It doesn't always show it's face the way you'd expect." Anna stood up from the table, "But I do wish you luck in surviving your feud and escaping this odious woman."

"Yes," John stumbled on his chair, following her to the door as she pulled it open for him. "I wish there was something I could give you in return."

"Your company today was more than sufficient Mr. Bates." She turned to leave him but he grasped her hand. Anna felt the tug that pulled her back to him and stared into his eyes as he lifted her hand to kiss it.

"Goodbye, Anna Smith."

"Goodbye, John Bates."

* * *

She rolled her eyes, holding her hand out to the woman next to her. When the cold metal sat there she spun the gun once and fired at the man sobbing at her feet. His body slumped over and she handed the gun back to the other woman.

"Obviously new." She smiled at the boy shaking at the host's station. "Our table?"

"This way ma'am." The boy, now smelling faintly of urine, led her and those with her to two tables in the back hastily shoved together. "We'll have whatever you want ready in no time."

"Oysters and duck I think, to start, and then we'll take an order of your best steaks. All medium rare but more rare than medium." She put a hand on the man's shoulder, "If there's one well done then I'll cook one of your servers until they're well done. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am." He scuttled away and she took her seat, lounging in it while the woman next to her sat on the edge of her seat. "What's the order O'Brien?"

"We're still looking for him but we haven't found him in his usual haunts."

"Did you break into that slum the River People run?"

"Not yet Vera but we're still trying to get some of the more innocent ones inside."

Vera snorted, "Mrs. Hughes'll see through them. She always does."

"We can't just smoke them out."

"Says who?"

O'Brien pursed her lips, "No one, I guess."

"Then burn the slum to the ground if you have to but I want John Bates found." Vera looked up as the boy returned, "Our order?"

"They're out of steaks, ma'am."

"Out of steaks?" Vera narrowed her eyes at the boy, "What's your name?"

"William, ma'am."

"William," She leaned over the table, her fingers closing over the knife on the table, "What was your promise that you'd have whatever I wanted ready in no time?"

"I misspoke."

"I'm sorry?" Vera leaned toward him with one ear, her finger pushing at the skin as if to hear him better, "What did you say?"

"I misspoke."

"I'd say you did." Vera lunged forward, slitting the knife over the boy's throat. He fell to the floor, holding at his neck as Vera stuck the knife in the table. She looked at the stain on the table, running her fingers in it a moment to draw something.

"Vera?" O'Brien stood next to her, watching the artwork. "What's this?"

"It's called a fugue, O'Brien," Vera leaned back, wiping her fingers on a napkin, "And it only happens when someone wants me to act on something important."

"Who?"

"The Judge." Vera jabbed her finger at the drawing on the table. "We need to find this girl."

"Who?"

"The blonde angel at the piano." Vera pulled O'Brien's face close to the drawing by her collar, "Find this blonde girl and you'll find John Bates. It's as simple as that."

"Finding a blonde who plays a piano in this city?"

"Yes," Vera flung O'Brien away from her, stroking her finger over the blade of the knife until it bled. "Find the blonde and John Bates'll come back to us in no time at all. He'll be ours again."


	5. Burning River

John blew into his cupped hands, trying to warm them as the man examined the stolen trinkets to appraise them. He shook his head, "I can't give you more than a hundred."

"It's more than enough." John held out his hands, "I'm in a rush mate."

"I can tell." The man peeled off the bills, handing them over. "Good luck in whatever's got you scampering."

"Thanks."

John tucked the bills safely into the pocket he sewed inside the lining of his shirt. Nodding to the man he walked away, carrying the last few stolen items in his rucksack. One thing he learned from his time with the people in shantytowns was you should always leave something for a rainy day.

He directed his feet toward the slums, weaving through the rush and crush on the streets as the warmest part of the day hurried to make itself scarce in the winter light. His route, to anyone watching, would seem a meandering wander more closely resembling the circuitous route of a bird than a man. But he kept his eyes peeled and ears pricked for sounds of anyone following. The clump of the coppers or the swift slide of those seeking to wrap more than cuffs around his wrists, either sound served as the litmus for those around him as measures of their intentions.

Pulling his coat tighter about himself, John dug his hands into his pockets to try and keep the tips of his fingers warm. But when he reached the edge of the harbor the wind blew harsh and chill off the water to leave John shivering in his clothes. In that moment he gave his whole soul to the idea of heading south to avoid the kind of bone-chilling wind that could cut through clothing, skin, and muscle to freeze the soul.

As soon as the thought entered his head he thought of Anna. The golden-haired soul with a smile wider than the Hudson River to his left and brighter than the sun on any day he could remember. He even tried to mimic the smile but found his a poor replacement for the memory of hers. The memory itself waking something deep inside him he thought long lost to time and tide.

Reaching the edge of the slums he nodded his head toward the boy sitting on the side of the docks with his line in the water. The boy nodded back and whistled out a traditional Christmas tune like anyone on the street might to keep their spirits high in the cold. John recognized it though and remembered when he used to keep watch with the same songs and warnings.

Those who recognized him greeted him and those who did not avoided him. There was no malice in their attitudes but when one has to prepare everyday for winter or survival there are not many spare expressions to be had. In a place where people froze in their beds every day of the year there was less than a moment to give to anyone.

John squeezed between two shacks and rapped his knuckles on the frozen tin siding acting as a makeshift door. It opened and the large man who opened it brightened immediately on seeing John. They embraced one another and the man welcomed John into the shack. He worked himself inside and greeted Mrs. Hughes with a kiss on the cheek before handing over a few of the bills.

"For the clothes you gave me yesterday."

"Those were a gift, John Bates," She tried to swat his hand away but he snuck the bills into the pocket of her apron and stepped back before she could conveniently return the money. "I won't take any of your money if you're using it to escape the influence of that woman."

"And I won't leave without giving you a bit of something as a thank you." John turned to the other man, "How are you Mr. Carson?"

"Better now that I see where my trousers and shirt found a home." He pointed to John, "That coat looks about as old as you."

"It feels it." John smiled and settled on a low stool while Mr. Carson took the chair in the room and Mrs. Hughes settled in her rocker.

"I thought you were making a run for it John." Mrs. Hughes pointed to the door, "You know the longer you stay the more she'll sniff about for you."

"I promise, I kept my guard up and watched. I came in clean." John motioned toward the door himself, "Ask the fisherman."

"I wouldn't need to if you were being followed." Mrs. Hughes tsked against her teeth, "But you know she knows where you come from and where you're always bound to run when trouble wraps itself around you."

"I only came to give you that." John pointed at the bills still peeking from her pocket. "And… maybe for something else."

"We haven't got another shirt for you unless you want the one off my back." Mr. Carson gruffed but John winked at him.

"No, it's about a girl."

"A girl?"

"Well, woman I guess." John wrung his hands, "I met her in the one of the houses this morning."

"John!" Mrs. Hughes gasped, "I thought you were only worried about Vera following you. You didn't say anything about the coppers being on your tail."

"They're not." John soothed, holding up a hand. "She didn't call for help or scream or anything. She… invited me to tea."

"Tea?" Mr. Carson raised one of his bushy eyebrows, "What sane woman offers a burglar tea?"

"That's what I thought but she's a little more cavalier with her life and limb I guess since she's consumptive."

"Oh John," Mrs. Hughes gave her own exasperated sigh, "Trust you to find the house of the only consumptive heiress in the whole of the city."

"Then you know her?"

"I know of her. The beautiful beauty, Anna Smith, marked for death." Mrs. Hughes shook her head, "It's always sad when the young die."

"It's the reminder that no matter how much money you have everyone dies in the end." Mr. Carson nodded his head as if about to dispense a multitude of wisdom. "There are only two truths, that life is short and death is sure."

John shook his head, rolling the comment away, "The thing is… I felt something."

"Fear the she might come to her senses?" Mrs. Hughes asked but John negated the comment with a shake.

"I can't explain it but it was like the sun could only shine because she smiled. Or that the world turned on her joy. I've never felt that before."

"Sounds serious." Mr. Carson muttered and ducked his head at the reproving look from Mrs. Hughes.

"What is it?"

"Have we taught you nothing in our home that you can't recognize love?"

"Love?" John frowned, "I don't think it works like that."

"Since you can't recognize it can you really say that it's not?" Mrs. Hughes pressed but John had no answer. "What happened when you spoke with her?"

"I felt lighter, like the world was my oyster because I knew her."

"And the feeling of leaving her gives you what kind of sensation?"

John gaped, "I feel empty at the thought. Like I don't want to be parted from her but I don't even know her."

"I'd say you know more about one another than most people do." Mr. Carson commented and John turned to him.

"How so?"

"You met her while in the midst of your profession and her response was to give you the time of day you didn't deserve." Mr. Carson shrugged, "I'd assume you gave her something in return since she didn't have you hauled from her home."

"She said she enjoyed that I didn't treat her like an invalid."

"Then perhaps that's the key." Mrs. Hughes's voice was soft and John strained to hear her. "That you were open and honest with one another in a deeper way than most are and it touched your soul."

"But I don't believe in love at first sight."

"It was more than first sight though, wasn't it?" Mrs. Hughes prodded his shoulder, "You stayed with her, had tea in her house, and exchanged conversation I'd hazard you haven't shared with many in your life."

"I guess." John furrowed his brow, "It was an hour, Mrs. Hughes."

"Sometimes that's all it takes." Mrs. Hughes stood, "So the question becomes, why are you sitting here instead of sharing whatever moments you can share with her before they're all lost?"

"I'm running for my life Mrs. Hughes."

"And she's losing hers. I'd say you're evenly matched."

"You just finished telling me I should get out of town."

"That was before I knew you were in love with a girl who can death when she closes her eyes." Mrs. Hughes pulled John's hands toward her. "There are few people who can say they could love at first sight. Do you really want to regret the rest of your life that you never acted on it?"

Before John could answer they heard the screams. All three stood in the cramped space, listening to the signals of the River People call out the warnings and the danger in the songs and languages lost to the general public but alive to the people in the shantytown. In a moment Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes gathered those things most valuable to them, stuffed them in rucksacks, and followed John out the door of their little hut.

The chaos that greeted them drown out the warning calls and John led the other two down the side of the docks. They hurried with the others in the packed lane before he could lead them down a side alley. A few followed them but most surrendered to the push of the masses like a river running the path of least resistance.

John weaved through the buildings, a heat intensifying until the alley opened on an inferno. He stepped back, holding up a hand to protect his face, and gasped at the sight. The river itself sparked and spat with flames burning over its surface. Snaps of flame caught on the flammable huts and lean-tos of the River People to spread the flames over the docks.

With a push at his back John edged along the flames toward an opening. He squinted around the flames and smoke, pulling his shirt to cover his mouth and nose, and guided those who followed him into another alley. They huddled about as he pulled the hatch on the sewer and descended the ladder with the comforting clink on the metal rungs letting him know the others followed.

When they reached the bottom he waited until all gathered and watched Mr. Carson close the lid above them. Everyone took shallow breaths, trying not to breathe through their nose, and John turned to Mrs. Hughes. "I think she found me."

"And I think if she could do this to us then you should consider what she could do to that girl of yours." Mrs. Hughes shuddered, "We're hardy people but she won't be ready for the kind of horrors that woman might rain down on her just to get at you."

"Vera wouldn't have any idea about her."

"She set fire to our homes, John." Mr. Carson interjected, "If she's willing to risk that kind of wrath when we regroup and retaliate then maybe she's bolder than you thought."

"And maybe I angered her more than I realized." John shook his head, pointing down the tunnel. "If you take that one then you'll get around the fire and find the other settlement. Maybe she hasn't got there yet."

"Considering they hate you I think she knows they'd never harbor you." Mrs. Hughes smiled at him, kissing both of John's cheeks and stepping back to allow Mr. Carson to shake his hand. "Now forget about us and go get your girl. We're more than capable of navigating a sewer John."

He nodded at them and sprinted away.

* * *

Anna checked over the luggage and turned her head at the knock on the door. She opened it to see a woman standing there. With a frown Anna looked around her and noted two men standing in the street below.

Turning back to the woman with a pinched face and ginger-brown hair she took a breath. "Are you the driver?"

"I'm his replacement." The woman's tight smile was a line and Anna swallowed back a shudder. "He took ill rather suddenly."

"That's unfortunate. He knew how to get where we're going." Anna pointed to the bags, "If you're helpers down there are willing then these are all there is to carry out and I'll be ready shortly."

"As you wish miss." The woman turned over her shoulder to the other two, snapping for them to come forward as Anna waited in the foyer.

They hurried with her bags and she pulled the large front doors shut, locking them before sliding the key into her handbag. The woman offered Anna a hand but she shook her head. "I'm perfectly capable of managing these stairs, thank you."

"Just as well." The woman pointed at the house. "Is there no one else?"

"Not this time."

"And your coat?"

"I'm warm enough, thank you for your concern." Anna walked to the car, smiling at the two men. "And thank you for your help with the bags."

"It's their pleasure I'm sure." Anna turned to see another woman, her Irish trill setting Anna's teeth on edge in a way that sent ice down her spine. "It's always someone's pleasure to help out a beautiful woman like yourself. I'm sure that's what John thought."

"John?" Anna frowned, "Who's John?"

"Forgot him already?" Vera clicked her tongue against her teeth, "That's bad manners Ms. Smith."

"Do I know you?"

"If you remember any of your conversation with John then you should." The woman's smile seemed more the leer of a predator about to enjoy its prey. "We've had a falling out recently and your house here would be just the kind of place to attract his less than noble intentions."

"If you're talking about John Bates then he was nothing but a gentleman while he enjoyed my company." Anna held herself taller, still shorter than the woman before her. "And if you're who I think then I very much doubt he was in the wrong when he left your employ."

"That's the mistake you're both making," The woman backed Anna into the side of the motor. "You both believe that's an option."

"We all have a choice."

"Batesy already made his and now he's mine. Heart, mind, and soul."

Anna shook her head, "No one's that lost."

"He is."

"You're wrong."

The woman paused, "Then where is he? Did he stay in your effervescent company or did he scarper as soon as he could?"

"I'm sure my impact on this situation is non sequitur."

"Then you don't know what you mean." The woman's finger traced down the line of Anna's jaw and she shuddered. "Few people understand their value."

"I assure you, my self-esteem is in perfect condition."

"That's what I mean." The woman laughed, "You think we're just talking about your self-image when it's more than that."

"More than that? Like what?"

The woman stopped, as if contemplating something deeper. "I wonder if he'd give it all up for your miracle."

Anna frowned but never had time to ask what the woman meant. A moment later the woman fell backward under the force of a shove hard enough to send her flailing into the wall behind her. Hands grabbed Anna, lifting her off the ground to settle her in the rear seat of the motor, and she noticed John at the wheel.

He did not waste time greeting her but cranked the wheel in sync with the gas pedal to send the motor skidding over the road and roaring away. The shouts behind them had Anna risking a look through the back window but the gunshots had her ducking below the seat. John's hand rested on her back, keeping her down, and he drove with one hand while his foot hit the floor with the pedal.

They careened through the minimal traffic, avoiding shrieking pedestrians and screaming horses. A few shouted insults after them but none managed to turn John as he steered them away from her neighborhood. His hands gripped the wheel tightly and occasionally risked a sharp turn as the sound of horns and galloping followed them.

Anna worked herself into the seat next to him, the climb giving her a view of those chasing them. The two women, the one from the door and her employer, followed at a manic speed in a motor of their own while horses and carriages filled with black-suited individuals kept pace with them. John risked no looks back, keeping the motor under firm control to lead them away from the chase.

"Who are they?"

"That's Vera. My ex-employer."

Anna raised her voice, holding tightly to the seat as John took another turn tighter than she thought wise. "She didn't seem convinced that was the case."

"No, she wouldn't." John guided the motor through the traffic and sped over the bridge. "She thinks I'm hers."

"Are you?"

John took a moment to look at her and Anna could swear her heart stopped for a split second as the whole world paused, "No."

"Then heard north." She pointed him in the direction they needed. "We can lose them across the river."

"What's north?"

"The lake and my father. We'll be safe there."

John obeyed her directions and took the car north. They followed the maze of streets, slowly losing their tails until only Vera and her assistant were left. Anna took a deep breath and held onto John's arm.

"Go over that."

His eyes widened. "That'll kill us."

"No, we'll be fine." Anna clutched herself closer to him. "Trust me."

With a nod he gunned the engine until it whined and sent their motor over an embankment. They sailed through the air and Anna maneuvered just enough to see Vera's car skid to a sideways halt on the edge. She faced front again as their motor landed shakily on its axels but remained upright, driving over the solid ice of the bay to continue north.

When both felt secure in the knowledge they were not being followed Anna settled back against her seat. John let off the gas, allowing the motor to roll itself forward and turned to her. "How'd you know that'd work?"

"I've lived in the city my whole life, Mr. Bates." She smiled, "I know the seasons and the weather and the water. I know what happens when the sun bakes so hot it cooks the fish in the river and when the wind blows so cold it freezes people in their beds."

"So you know when the water solidifies enough to support the weight of a motor, two people, and all your luggage?"

Anna grinned at him, "There's a little faith involved in it too."

"More than a little I'd say." John shook his head, "You're the bravest person I've ever met."

"You're the one who commandeered the motor and whisked me away."

His brow furrowed, "From a problem I caused."

"And now you've rectified it." Anna shrugged, "I'd say you've made yourself more than equal to whatever task it is you set for yourself in this."

"I didn't want her to get you."

"And why is that?"

John ducked his head, "Because I think I might be in love with you."

Anna smiled, "Then isn't it convenient that I might be the same about you?"


	6. The Judge

Vera snarled at the motor, kicking the tire and watching the dot that was John and the blonde pianist fade into the distance. O'Brien got out of the motor, shuffling tentatively toward Vera, and cleared her throat to speak. In a motion swifter than man could move, Vera had her hand wrapped over O'Brien's neck.

"What?"

"Why…" She gasped, her finger shaking as she pointed it after the escaping couple. "Why don't we follow them?"

"Boundary quarrel that was somewhat shortsighted about a decade ago." Vera released O'Brien, letting the woman collapse against the side of the motor, gasping for air. "But if I can see the Judge then it's all a thing of the past and John Bates'll be mine again."

"The Judge, ma'am?"

"Yes." Vera clacked her teeth together, "That's who we're going to see."

"Is it really that serious? We could-"

"He sent me the fugue, O'Brien," Vera rounded on the other woman, tapping on her forehead hard enough to leave a red spot. "He'll know how to solve this and how I can get ahold of John Bates."

Pushing past O'Brien Vera got into the driver seat and peeled away, leaving O'Brien on the bank of the river. She worked back into town, arriving with the dusk and leaving the motor idling outside a decrepit building. Her knock thudded on the door and she stepped back to wait.

When the door creaked open it sent a cold shiver down her spine, the only time she felt anything, and held the gaze of the man standing there. Between his sunken, lifeless eyes and the lips held shut by a row of tiny stitches Vera gave voice to the question she often expressed before.

"Are you truly just the walking dead or almost dead?" The man did not answer, as he never did, and she shook her head. "Necromantic, that's what he is. A walking corpse not allowed to die."

The man led her into the depth of the building, the blackness dragging them deeper and deeper until even the dark of her soul might appear light by comparison. She heard the echo of her steps just a hint after the other man's until her hips collided with a bar. Her hands wrapped over it, stability in the darkness, and heard a voice call out to her.

"It's been some time since you decided to come and speak with me Vera." The strike of a match momentarily blinded Vera and she blinked past the sudden light. "I'll assume that you mean no good."

"I never mean good, Your Honor."

"Vera," The man stood, waving a hand to silence her, "Don't waste time with titles here. We're alone and you're desperate. I don't have time to shuffle under the weight of your adoration and adulations just to have you request something of me."

"It's not false praise, Your Honor."

"From you, no. But from others…" He shrugged, "One gets tired of feeling the constant strain of satisfying so many horrible people and their dark souls. Come, join me."

Vera followed the line of the handrail down to the indentation of the floor where the man with brown hair paced the edges of the light cast by the lantern hanging from the ceiling. She pointed up at it, "It's lovely."

"It's a necessity for you." He opened his hands to her, "Tell me, what brings you to the darkness now?"

"John Bates."

"Ha!" The Judge paced away from her, wagging a finger, "Why is his name the only one I ever hear from your lips? It's always 'help me find a way to get him', 'help me keep him', and now…"

"Help me get him back." Vera edged a step forward but heard the growl echo over the room and stepped back to the edge of the light. "Or kill him. At this point I don't care which."

"You used my skills to get him off the streets, stole him from the River People, and trained him up as your lover, your partner, and your successor." The Judge stopped, tapping at his temple as if trying to remember something, "I recall when you said you wanted permission to bring him here because you thought he could take on your work as his own. That's what you said."

He stepped toward her and Vera tried to hide her shudder as the man put his face near hers, "Do you remember that conversation, because I do?"

"I remember Judge."

"Then you remember that you plucked him from the crowds to be everything to you and promised it'd be worth my time to help you snatch him." He stepped back, "Because I'm starting to wonder which of us should be more embarrassed by what's happened here. You or me?"

Vera did not respond.

"Because I tend to think it's embarrassing." He cringed at her, "And you? What do you think?"

"Shit happens."

"That it does." The Judge walked a pace away. "I always wondered what you saw in him because for all the darkness and the bitterness you claimed was there I only ever saw that annoyingly bright patch of light just twinkling out of reach."

"I thought I could stamp it out."

"He's not O'Brien, Vera."

"I didn't say he was."

"But you never told me you'd bring her here. Never promised me that she'd turn to the depths of darkness." The Judge raised an eyebrow, "Did you lose your taste for her?"

"She's not my style."

"But you're hers I'd imagine." The Judge laughed, "That woman's light is her forgiveness of you. She'd do whatever you asked no matter what and come crawling back to you every time."

"She's loyal."

"She's spineless and an excuse." He clicked his teeth, "Just like I'm beginning to believe you are."

"I'm not worthless yet Your Honor."

"I'm wondering if that's really true."

"What would you know of truth?" Vera managed, her voice edged with fury. "You, the Father of Lies, can't possibly fulfill on your promises to me any more than I can expect truth from you."

He only laughed, "You forget that's only one of my names. I've been a trickster, a tempter, and even a simple man named for the color of his green jacket." He sucked in a breath, "But your John Bates will never be anything more than a lasting stain on your record. He'll lose you all of it, Vera."

"Then help me kill him."

"I can't do that."

"You sent me the fugue!" Vera pulled the cloth from inside her coat and threw it on the lighted part of the floor. Her finger quivered at it, "You sent me after the blonde pianist to ruin him."

The Judge bent to examine the torn cloth, noting the brown used to paint the picture there cracked under his fingers. "A fugue led you to this?"

"Guided me to slit the throat of a virgin as a blood sacrifice and then draw the fugue with the spray." Vera shuffled, "I've had a few before."

"But none like this." The Judge whistled, "She's of some significance to him, isn't she?"

"I'd assume since he rescued her and then took her up river."

The Judge winced, "That's why you're here. Because you were shortsighted so long ago and now you want me to fix your mess when I warned you last time."

"As I said, shit happens."

"But not like this." The Judge threw back the cloth, "You should have just dispatched her instead of waiting to wrangle it from John Bates as well."

"Why send her to me at all if not to destroy John Bates with her?"

"Because I'm in the business of taking souls, of destroying light, Vera. I don't care about whether or not you punish John Bates before his light dies as long as it dies." The Judge scoffed, "You humans and your petty grievances. This is what frustrates me and leads me to seek your destruction. Because I get tired of your complaining and whining."

"Then help me snuff out John Bates's light" Vera risked the edge of the light, "I know I could do it. Give me permission to follow him north and he's mine. I swear it."

"Permission denied." The Judge shook his head, walking away from her, "You'll have to prove to me you can find another way and satisfy your revenge with ingenuity, not my power."

Vera practically ripped at the hem of her coat. "Lucifer! I need to stop John Bates now!"

He turned on her, the speed of the turn sending another chill down her spine as his face slowly drew into a glare. "Now? You want me to help you stop him now?"

"Yes." Vera tried to maintain her defiance but with him right before her she knew she quailed.

"You have no idea what 'now' is. Now I was flying with all the angels in the heavens above and now I breathe fire and spit flames at those who flee before me. Now I whip my tail and my minions tremble and now I slide among the weak and drag them to the depths of hell with me. Now I shrink in the sight of God and now I defy His Son. Now I am victorious, now I am fallen, now I see men rise, and now I see them fall."

His breath was hot on her face, the shadows cast behind him echoing a furnace while he seemed to sprout wings and horns but the face before her remained the same.

"Do not speak to me of time, Vera. It's simplest ebbs and turns elude your meager understanding and you'll never comprehend it." He straightened, "So I suggest you find another way, now."

"Yes, Your Honor." Vera dropped her gaze to the ground, blinking rapidly as he walked away from her.

"Get out and don't let me see your face again until you can bring me news of your success."

Vera hurried away, almost tripping unguided in the dark, but emerging in the dark of the night with a sigh. She took a few lungfuls of air, unable to shake the taste of brimstone and sulfur from her mouth. When she felt enough herself she climbed into the motor and sped away.

Her headquarters teamed with life, the hushed voices all silencing as she entered the building. O'Brien hurried over to her and for a moment Vera almost pitied the woman. But weakness deserved none of that. Weakness deserved death.

"Find me Barrow."

"The angel?" O'Brien frowned, "He refused to join us."

"I'm not asking for him to join us." Vera's lips drew back in a smile. "I'm asking for him to fulfill on the favor he owes me."


	7. Lakeside Paradise

Anna smiled as the motor drew to the outside of the house. Gwen called to her, hidden behind a snowbank before revealing herself to pelt the boys passing with snowballs. Giggling to herself Anna put a hand on John's arm.

They both stopped, realizing what she had done, and turned to one another. For a moment Anna wondered if a person could tip into the soul of another through just their eyes. But then his other hand covered hers and helped her from the motor.

Her feet hit the snow and she could feel it chill through her boots but as she looked down it melted around her feet. She frowned and then tipped her head up to see John inspecting the situation himself. Anna slipped her hand from his grip and nodded toward the house.

"It's best we go inside. My father'll be worried sick and he'll want to meet my rescuer."

"Are we going to mention the part where your being in danger was my fault?"

"I think we might want to consider leaving that out." Anna smiled as Gwen pelted toward her, thin legs flying in her mad dash to reach them. She almost skidded in the snow but Anna caught her, lifting the girl up to hold and then kissing all over her face. "Already making trouble for the poor Crawley boys I see."

"Robert and James were being absolute terrors to me." Gwen defended and pointed to the boys readying their own snowballs. "I thought I'd teach them a lesson."

"I'm sure you taught them well with an aim like yours." John commented, pursing his lips as he moved to investigate Gwen's base of operations and her supply. "But I think you need a longer arm."

"I won't get a longer arm until I'm older."

"Then I'll have to help you." John readied a snowball and peeked over the top of the barrier before landing a snowball right in the face of the taller of the two boys. "There, bullseye."

"I don't think it's fair if you help her." Anna let Gwen down and then held her hands over her head, calling out to the boys. "We call a truce while I pass through."

"Truce for the invalid!" The by not dusting snow off his face hollered and then ran over to them. "Are you coming for cocoa and gingersnaps for tea Anna?"

"I don't know," She crouched next to him, nodding at the other boy readying a snowball, "Is James there going to hit me with a snowball?"

"I think he's aiming for Gwen." The boy threw his arm toward a house whose tipped roofs just peeked over the trees that circled the large house in front of them. "But Rosamund's been hoping to show you her new dress for Christmas dinner and Mama's absolutely worried you'd take too ill to join her for the New Year's Eve ball this year."

"I wouldn't want to miss that." Anna offered her hand, "If you'll defend and protect me, Sir Robert, then I'll gladly visit your mother and sister this afternoon."

"It'd be my honor, Lady Anna." The smaller boy took her hand and Anna waved to John and Gwen.

"I think we should call the gave a truce and enjoy cocoa and gingersnaps at the Crawleys don't you?"

"No," Gwen readied a snowball and stood up to throw over the barrier, "Victory of death, no surrender!"

Before she could throw the snowball two hit her in rapid succession, knocking her back into John's arms. He laughed, righting her before raising his arms above his head and calling to the already prepared James, "I surrender."

"Traitor!" Gwen turned on him, dusting snow out of her coat, "You're never supposed to give up."

"I'm Irish, we've learned our lessons about fighting losing battles." John offered his arms to Gwen, "Might I carry the injured to hospital for treatment?"

Gwen lifted her arms above her head, "Alright, I accept your aid."

"Right then." John lifted her, adjusting her on his hip before joining Anna and her own protector, James joining them.

"Am I light or heavy?" Gwen poked at John's shoulder and Anna tried to hide her smile as John shrugged.

"I'd say you're not but a feather."

"You have to say that," Gwen huffed, holding around his neck, "You're Anna's boyfriend."

"Gwen!" Anna rounded on her, "He's a guest and you're supposed to treat them with respect."

"If he's your boyfriend then he's not a guest."

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you," John cringed, "But I'm not Anna's boyfriend."

"Don't you want to be?"

John and Anna looked at one another, reaching the end of the walkway leading to a rather large and imposing door. "I'm sure I would but wouldn't that be up to her and not me?"

"I thought it was a mutual decision." Gwen sighed, "I guess it's always in the hands of the lady."

"Right you are." Anna wagged her finger at Gwen before knocking on the front door. "We're the ones who hold the real power here."

"She's right." John stage-whispered to Gwen. "Women hold all the power."

"Then she kidnapped you here?"

"I rather think I kidnapped her." John's smile fell almost immediately when the door opened to a man with a raised eyebrow and a drawn face.

"What's this about kidnapping?"

"I-" John stumbled for words so Anna swept in.

"Father this is Mr. John Bates, he was kind enough to drive me up here when the regular driver had difficulties."

"Would it have anything to do with the scuffle the Chief of Police called to inform me originated at my front door and apparently continued all the way to the river?"

"It might've done." Anna pointed to John, freeing her hand from Robert's smaller grip. "I was being accosted and he was the gentleman who saved me from an otherwise unmentionable fate."

"Unmentionable fate is it?"

"Quite unmentionable."

Her father pursed his lips, "Then inside with the three of you. Gwen, go up and change for tea at the Crawleys while these two boys scurry home to tell their mother and aunt we'll be there promptly at four o'clock."

"Yes sir." Robert and James snapped their mock salutes and dashed off into the snow.

"As for you," Anna's father turned to her, "I want you changed as best you're able and ready to take Gwen at four if you're feeling up to it."

"I've never felt better." Anna waited as John deposited Gwen on the stoop and then took her hand. "Anything else?"

"No," Her father turned all his attention to John. "I believe I need to discuss some things with your new friend, Mr. Bates here."

Anna cringed, shooting a look at John but he only swallowed and kept his gaze firmly locked on Anna's father. "Come on then Gwen, let's leave them to it."

"What'll happen to your boyfriend Anna?"

"Shhh," Anna hissed, hearing the strangled choke in her father's throat at the word, "He's not my boyfriend Gwen."

"But he-"

"No," Anna stopped Gwen's mouth with her hand, "We're not discussing this. We've got to be ready to visit with the Crawleys and we've almost no time at all."

* * *

John pulled at his collar, noting the scuffing on his shoes and the wearing in his coat as the butler helped him remove it. He hurried to pull the cuffs of his shirt down and then remembered the tears in the sleeves that had him rolling them up again. And when Mr. Smith motioned for him to follow toward the study it was all John could do to snap to attention and immediately obey.

They entered the room and John stood in the center, shuffling his weight from foot to foot while Mr. Smith mumbled something to the butler before closing the door. He turned to John and pointed to the other wingbacked chair set right before the fire while taking his own. John perched on the edge of the seat, clasping one hand in the other just to keep them occupied.

Mr. Smith rested an elbow on one arm and his fingers formed the perfect stand for his chin as one, slim finger lined up his cheek. This attitude of study had John wishing he could hide behind the large desk in the room or even bury himself under any of the cases holding their own deluge of books. Instead he fought to hold the man's gaze and breath as normally as he could in a room that scented of woodsmoke, brandy, and a faint cologne.

"So you're Anna's boyfriend?"

"No sir, I'm not."

"I know." Mr. Smith removed his chin from his hand to steeple his fingers between the armrests and move his chin there. "Anna never leaves the house so it would be impossible for her to meet you, regardless of whatever class you claim as your own."

"I don't claim a class, sir."

"None at all?" Mr. Smith made a 'hm' noise in his throat. "Everyone has a class, Mr. Bates, which means when you say you don't have one you're either lying about your station or it's because you don't know how to define your station so tell me, which is it?"

John waited a moment, "It's difficult to define your station, sir, when you've nothing to your name and no parents to give one to you. When you claim the people of the city as your family and they hail from all the strata what could you say for yourself?"

"You call the city your family?"

"I was found in a tiny boat that the people who live along the river fished out like the morning catch. I grew up on the streets and I learned the ways of the world there."

"And where did you learn your poetry of speech?" Mr. Smith shrugged, "You speak better than most of my journalists."

"I can read, sir, and the libraries and bookshops are free to browse as you like."

"Do you like reading?"

"When I've the time."

"And you don't often have the time?"

"It's difficult to find time for leisure when each moment needs your attention just to live, sir." John coughed, "No offense meant to your position or you collection here sir."

"If I took it as anything but your honest opinion I wouldn't be so calm." Mr. Smith rolled his shoulders back and dropped his arms to lay on the rests. "I'm going to ask you some questions and I insist on your honest answers. Moreover I demand the absolute truth. Don't elaborate, as the details are of no importance, but stop your tale if a neighbor, child, or servant enters the room. Be brief because I can't stand obfuscation or unnecessary elaboration."

John swallowed, "And your questions, sir?"

"Who are you? What do you do for a living? What is your relationship with Anna? Are you aware of her condition? What are you motivations, intentions, and desires? How did you meet her? And what do you know of those who caused her delay in traveling here?"

"My name is John Bates and I'm a thief."

"Thief?"

"Yes sir." John waited to see if Mr. Smith desired anything else and when a moment passed be continued. "I don't know what my relationship is with Anna as I only know I care for her so I don't know what name you put to that emotion beyond what it is. I'm aware that she suffers from consumption and she's got no time at all."

"She told you this?"

"She did."

"When?"

"When I first met her." John coughed, "I've no motivations beyond her happiness, no intentions except the same, and my desires are only to see her smile."

"You seem pure in those."

"I am sir. I have been since I met her in your house while I tried to rob it."

"Did you succeed?"

"I became a bit distracted sir, and so I didn't rob you at the time."

"Have you since?"

"I've been distracted from that goal and it's exchanged for another."

"What other?"

"Her safety and well-being." John darted his eyes to the floor to gather strength, "The well-being my actions almost endangered when those who caused her travel delays targeted her because of me."

"Because of you?"

"I've been having a bit of a disagreement with an old boss and she happened to notice I'd met your daughter. They targeted her to get to me."

"Did they harm her?"

"No sir, I got there before anything could happen."

Mr. Smith nodded, "So you were both the reason for her possible destruction and the means of her escape from the same?"

"I was sir, as much as you can call it that."

"I'll call it that." Mr. Smith pursed his lips, "As a thief, what do you hope to accomplish with her?"

John frowned, "I don't understand the question."

"I imagine disputes in your line of work are hard to settle without blood or limb and so I'm wondering if you belivee my daughter is the key to your salvation from your predicament."

"My troubles are challenging, yes sir, but they're my own. I wouldn't take a penny from you or her."

"Even though you were trying to rob my house?"

"I'm sure this won't mean anything but it wasn't personal." John shifted in his seat, "I needed to get out of town and yours wasn't the first house I tried to nick from to get me the funds I need."

"Just a stop on the way then?"

"Yes sir."

Mr. Smith laughed, "And you're wrong."

"About what, sir?"

"It does mean something to me that your presence in my house that day wasn't personal. I've got too many people chasing my tail for personal reasons that it's a breath of fresh air to have one person interested in something as simple as my money."

"It's my business, sir."

"Are you good at it?"

John smiled, "It's not prideful to say I am, though I admit I should be more ashamed to say it but I'm not."

Mr. Smith brought his hand and chin back to it's original pose, narrowing his eyes. "Then what's the best thing you've ever stolen Mr. Bates?"

"I'm beginning to think I haven't stolen it yet." John swallowed, "But, as a thief, I have to wonder if it'd be possible for me to steal just one life, to keep it back from the greedy hands of death."

"In my experience, no." Mr. Smith stood, "You'll accompany Anna and Gwen to the Crawleys for tea. I'm unfortunately going to be very busy here this afternoon with final deadlines arriving by constant telegram and phone."

"I'd be honored." John stood as well, shaking the offered hand. "Thank you, Mr. Smith."

"And you'll sleep in the guest wing." Mr. Smith led them to the door but stopped, holding up a finger in John's face. "There's two things you should know about the house, Mr. Bates. The first is that Anna sleeps in her tent on the roof."

"And the second thing, sir?"

"That you do not." Mr. Smith opened the doors, "Now, I think you need some new clothes or you'll never be ready to meet the Crawleys."

* * *

Anna paced in the hall until a small hand came down on hers. She jumped as the chill spread through her and sighed when she saw Gwen there. "Sorry, you startled me."

"You're going to make yourself hot and you need to stay cold."

"Then we'll wait outside." Anna took Gwen's hand, leading her off the porch once the smaller girl managed her coat, and sucked in the blistering air.

"Are you nervous Papa won't like your boyfriend?"

"Yes, I think I might be." Anna sighed, turning toward the side of the house where her father's study windows turned out toward the lake. "I want him to stay but it's all up to Papa."

"Would he stay in your tent with you?"

"According to your father, no." John came out the doors and Anna gave a sigh of relief. He opened his arms, "I think it's a bit of a tight fit but your father's old clothes seem almost made for me."

"You look rather dashing." Anna grinned at him, "What did my father say?"

"That you sleep on the roof, I do not, and he's like me to accompany you and Miss Gwen to the Crawleys for tea." John offered her his arm, "Shall we then?"

Anna slipped her arm through his, "I'd like that very much."


	8. White as Snow

Anna held Gwen's chilly hand in hers as they waited for the door to open. When it did she smiled at the woman standing there and felt Gwen's hands slip from hers in a moment to dash after the giggling figures in the background. "I apologize, Mrs. Crawley, it seems Gwen's more excited to see your children than she is me."

"They'll wear themselves out and then come begging for a spot with us when Mrs. Patmore brings the tea and cocoa for them." Mrs. Crawley raised an eyebrow at John. "Are you the new Butler at the Grange?"

"No, I'm-"

"He's my escort, Mrs. Crawley." Anna pointed a hand at him before waving it toward the other woman. "Mrs. Crawley, meet John Bates. Mr. Bates meet Violet Crawley."

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Bates. Please come inside," Violet Crawley stepped to the side to allow them in. "It'll get so chilly the only one who can stand it is Anna."

"Thank you." Anna led them inside as John dipped to whisper in her ear.

"What's the Grange?"

"Our house here is called Thrushcross Grange."

"After the novel, Mr. Bates." Violet called to them as she led the procession toward the library. "Have you read the Brontë's?"

"I think I only read one and I can't recall which it was, Mrs. Crawley." John turned to Anna, "Which novel?"

" _Wuthering Heights_. It was my mother's favorite and when my father built the house to her specifications she insisted on that name for it." Anna sighed, "She picked every part of the furnishing and furniture down to the tiniest baseboard."

"She's had fine taste." John smiled at Anna's furrowed brow. "I've been in a few nice houses and the two you claim as your own were some of the finest I've seen."

"I'm sure you weren't in those other houses as an invited guest."

"Most definitely not." John lowered his voice, "And I doubt they would've invited me to tea if they discovered my presence there."

They joined the others in the library and John stepped back to allow Anna to break his grip and embrace a young girl sitting on a sofa with another older woman. Anna released the girl, running a hand over her hair. "It's going red, Rosamund."

"It finally fits my name." She hopped up and down excitedly, pulling at her dress. "Do you like it? It's new for the New Year's Eve Ball. Mama's letting me go this year and I'm so excited. They're serving champagne and-"

"She won't be having any of that." Violet Crawley took her seat by the fire, sitting stiffly in it. "But she's going with her father since I'm waiting for Princess Irinia and Prince Kuriagin to arrive that evening. Given the weather we suspect they'll be delayed at any number of locations and I'd rather not entrust them to just the servants."

"Especially since the poor dears don't speak a lick of Russian and the Princess conveniently forgets all of her English when she's tired and crotchety." The other woman said, pushing off the cushions of the sofa to stand and cross the room to where John still stood, as if waiting for permission to engage. "I'm Isobel Crawley, the cousin to Violet there, and I'm so pleased to welcome someone new. What is your name dear boy?"

"John Bates." He shook her hand quickly, "I… Mr. Smith sent me in his place with his apologies about the deadlines he needs to meet for the next edition of his paper."

"Completely understandable." Isobel Crawley guided him to a seat on the sofa, the one nearest her now that Rosamund had vacated it. "So tell me, what is it that you do for Mr. Smith, Mr. Bates?"

"Do?" He flashed a wide-eyed look toward Anna but she could only bite her lip to keep herself from laughing at the abject fear on his face. "I'm afraid I don't understand the question."

"What job do you have with the newspaper?"

"Eh," John coughed to clear his throat as he stammered out his answer. "I don't work for the newspaper. I'm an…"

"He's a friend of mine," Anna finally deigned to help, trying to keep the grin off her face. "He stepped in rather generously at the last moment to drive me here when my regular driver fell unexpectedly ill."

"Oh, how kind of you." Isobel almost gushed at him and John gave a sigh of relief. "You must be an excellent driver then."

"Must I?"

"To get up here. The way's dreadfully touchy and with the snow we've been getting combine with the chill there's a layer of ice on everything." Isobel shuddered, "We risked death just to be here and I'm wonder if it was wise at all."

"Coming to Downton for the holidays is what the Crawley family does." Anna smiled, holding Rosamund on her lap in their chair. "Downton wouldn't be Downton is the Crawleys weren't here."

"Hear, hear." Violet Crawley thumped her hand on the arm of her chair. "Now, I believe it's time for tea and to get those rambunctious children settled before they break something."

The afternoon passed rather pleasantly. The four children, Gwen looking the reddest and by far the scruffiest of the lot, took to their table with their gingersnaps and cocoa while Anna smiled over her teacup at John. She breathed in the scent of the tea, basking in the aroma of it as the room warmed.

Anna put a hand to her cheek, trying to appear nonchalant about it, and counted the seconds but the heat did not dissipate. She stood, smiling at those in the room, and made her exit toward the hall. It was not cold enough there and with a nod, the footman opened the front door for her. Anna hurried over the threshold, the porch, and took the steps so fast her hand melted the accumulated icy snow on the railing to a slush in her rush.

It splattered onto the ground as Anna stumbled slightly. Her shoes skidded a moment and she almost pin-wheeled but hands caught her. She turned and John stood there, without a coat, and held her until she regained her balance. Anna pointed toward the house.

"You should get yourself a coat before you freeze Mr. Bates."

"I think you're warm enough to keep the whole of the Crawley house toasty." He stepped closer, taking her hands. "What's wrong?"

"I'm too hot." She put a hand to her forehead, waiting a moment before taking a handful of snow to show him. It melted almost immediately and the water dripped from her fingers just to freeze on the ground beneath her. "My heart's racing so quickly it's all I can hear in my ears and I need-"

"Count."

"What?" Anna frowned, "I don't understand."

"Or name star constellations or colors or animals at the zoo."

"I'm still not following." The rush of blood in Anna's ears almost overwhelmed her and the thump of her heart against her chest thundered loudly enough to be heard across the iced-over lake.

"When you're breaking into a safe or picking a lock you get nervous. Your hands sweat, your forehead furrows, and you start breathing faster. The only cure is to find a way to take your mind off your heart. You've got to distract yourself. I knew a few people who'd chew the gum off of cards or boxes to mimic eating something."

"Why would you want to mimic eating something?"

"Like a cow chewing its cud. You've got to fool your body into relaxing when it wants to stand on end like a wire." John rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands. "You've got to find a way to trick your body into relaxing. Calming your blood so your heart doesn't beat too quickly."

"My heart's the only thing I can feel and my blood's the only thing I can hear."

"Then repeat after me." John waited until Anna met his eyes. "Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet, rose, black, cerulean, tyrian, emerald, ruby, sapphire, diamond, black, white, gray-"

Anna repeated after him, following the list of colors until she noticed John had returned to the beginning of his list. By then her heart thudded gently in her chest and the blood in her body calmed to the point where she could hear the sounds of the afternoon. The few birds left to endure the cold, voices calling over the air, and the whisper of the wind through the trees to cause the occasional thump of snow blow from its perch.

She looked down, the snow on her no longer melting on impact, and then smiled. "You're quite the magician Mr. Bates."

"I've just got a very particular set of skills, Ms. Smith." John's hands still held hers, thumbs continuing their calming circuitous route over her skin. "Can you hear your heart now?"

"No," Anna shook her head, staring into his eyes. "But I want to."

John frowned, "I thought you needed to keep your heart from beating out of your chest and-"

"Not because I'm too hot, Mr. Bates." Anna tugged gently at one of her hands, changing its hold so she could now rub the skin of his hand with her thumb. "I want to hear it when I kiss you."

He gaped, jaw jogging up and down like a drowning fish before he found his voice. "Ms. Smith, I think that'd be-"

"Improper?" Anna risked, grinning slightly, "Because it wouldn't be undesirable."

"Cold." John confessed and Anna finally noticed the chatter to his teeth and the shivers running through his body. "If you tried to kiss me now you'd only get cold lips and that's now how someone should ever be kissed. It's… it's not how I'd want to kiss someone."

"I've never been kissed." Anna pulled him gently along, back toward the house. "Twenty-one and only ever shared the kisses from my family and relatives."

"Those are kisses." John followed her inside, rubbing at his arms and hands to restore the color there.

"They're not the same."

"They're kisses I wish I could've had." He murmured and Anna stopped, her hands reaching to give him a blanket to wrap over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize-"

"No," John put a cold hand on her face and Anna closed her eyes to relish the chill on her heated skin. "I didn't mean it like that. I wasn't looking for pity."

"And yet I spoke without thinking." Anna managed a laugh, finally getting the blanket around him. "To think, I'm bemoaning never having been kissed on the lips when those kisses are the kind you've had in excess while the kisses you want are those I wish I could trade away."

"What a pair we make." John smiled back at her, catching her warm fingers with his own, whether just to hold her or in hopes of exchanging heat Anna did not care. "But, if I could, I would kiss you Anna."

"Perhaps you'll get a chance."

They rejoined the group for the end of tea and said their goodbye before they headed back to the Grange. Gwen trekked through the snow ahead of them, chattering away about the Crawley boys, and then paused, turning to John. "Can I show you something?"

"I don't know." He faced Anna, "Should I trust her enough to go with her?"

Anna raised her eyebrows, turning to John, "I think she'll return you in one piece, if you can manage it."

"Then I'll go." John's fingers tangled temporarily with Anna's and he bent his shoulders to follow Gwen toward the glass-house conservatory.

Smiling to herself, Anna pushed toward the house and walked through the front door. Mr. Smith, his voice echoing over the halls, was still in his office and Anna tiptoed through the crack in the door to join him. His hand held the earpiece to the side of his head while his other continually moved the neck to flick the cord from his path as he paced back and forth in front of the window.

"I understand. That's no excuse for why they haven't written anything yet. There's no justification for such behavior. This is a paper, not an advertising scheme. I don't… No, they'll have it to scape by tomorrow of we'll find another supplier. Yes, I understand the New Year's approaching. Why else do they think we're rushing this issue? They'll be warmer if they're working on getting their stories and typing them faster on those machines. Then see it gets done. Happy holidays."

He notched the ear back in the cradle and rested the telephone on the table. With a sigh he heaved himself into his chair and Anna took the other, so recently occupied by John. She curled her feet up in it and when her father turned his weary eyes toward her, he smiled.

"How was tea?"

"A bit hotter than I expected."

"Anna?"

She waved a hand as Mr. Smith started to rise from his chair. "It was nothing."

"You could've overheated."

"But I didn't." She opened her arms, "I'm before you as well as I was before and none the worse for wear."

He frowned, "How?"

Anna bit at her lip, "Mr. Bates helped me."

"He helped you?"

"He's got a few tricks to calm the heart and ease breathing."

Mr. Smith snorted, smiling toward the fire. "Tricks of his trade I imagine."

"It's what he said." Anna pulled at the fingers of her left hand with her right. "You do like him, don't you Father?"

"I can't say I hold him in any regard yet." Mr. Smith put his elbow on the armrest so he could rest his chin in his hand. "He seems a genuine fellow and those are hard enough to find these days."

"But otherwise?"

He shrugged, "I've not had the pleasure of watching him in day-to-day interaction so it's all on your word." Mr. Smith rotated to fully face Anna. "Do you like him, Anna?"

"I do." Anna let go of her fingers, "I think… I think I love him but that's so strange to say."

"I loved your mother the moment I saw her."

"But to truly love someone don't you need more than a look?"

Mr. Smith put his fingers together, bouncing them a moment. "For it to last, yes. There must be trust and conflict and discussion and even anger but love… that can happen in a moment. Perhaps not the deep, abiding love you're talking about, but the kind of love that leads one to find the deeper kind happens like that."

He snapped his fingers and Anna jumped. They both laughed and settled in their chairs. She swallowed to speak again. "I think I loved him from the first moment I saw him, watching me play."

"And now?"

"He saved me when he owed me nothing."

"It was his fault."

"But his choice was to stay and help me, not flee." Anna took a deep breath, "He brought me here. He endured an interview with you. He accompanied us to tea. And… He helped me calm my heart."

"And now?"

"I think I love him more?" Anna shrugged, "But I've never been in love. I don't know what it feels like or what one is supposed to do with it."

"Return it as best as you can." Her father sighed, "Your mother, God rest her soul, was an imperfect being. But so was I. We loved one another the first time I saw her walk into the offices to be my father's secretary. But only after we built a life together, suffered through our petty arguments, endured the pitfalls of mankind's machinations, and built something together did I realize the depth of our affections."

"What if I don't have time to build that kind of affection?"

"We've all got time."

"I don't." Anna pulled at her fingers again, "My time isn't like yours was. It's finite and-"

"I believe your delusion, Anna, is that you believe my time with your mother was infinite."

She frowned, "Wasn't it?"

"No," Mr. Smith shook his head. "All time is finite. We're all dying. The only difference for your mother and I that you do not share is that we weren't to know what would take her. You knowing that what you have will take you only means the burden you bear to use your time as effectively as possible lies more heavily on your shoulders than ours did."

"Then," Anna sighed, "You wouldn't mind me being in love with Mr. Bates?"

"I only mind if he loves you in return." Mr. Smith reached forward a hand, covering Anna's so their eyes met. "Your happiness, for as long as it is in my power to help grant it to you, is my only concern."

"Thank you." Anna gripped his fingers with hers. "That means so much to me."

"And you mean so much to me." He stood, kissing her forehead. "Now, I 'd best see Cook about supper."

* * *

John tucked his hands under his armpits as Gwen worked the lock on the glass-covered building. "I hope where you're taking me isn't as cold as it is out here."

"It's warm." The door opened, "Follow me."

John followed Gwen into the space and immediately sighed with relief at the steady heat. Gwen closed the door, removing her hat, and took John on a tour. "It's heated through the pipes under us. My mother insisted she needed a place she could garden all year round and my father built this greenhouse for her."

"It's lovely."

"It is, isn't it?" Gwen sighed happily at it. "When Anna got sick she couldn't come in here anymore so I keep it up. I've assembled a nice collection of flowers."

"I can see that."

"But they're not why I dragged you here."

Gwen took his hand and guided John to the center of the greenhouse where a circle of greenery had been thatched and woven together to resemble a bed. White sheets and blankets hung over it and when John touched it he recalled those fairytales of Snow White or Sleeping Beauty. He stepped back, shaking his head.

"What is it for?"

"It's a fairy bed." Gwen patted at it. "I made the Crawley boys help me build it and Rosamund got the white covers for it."

"But why?"

"Because it's magical." Gwen pointed at it, "This is the kind of bed where if you lay someone who's sick or dying and give them True Love's Kiss, they'll wake up and be all better again."

John made a humming sound in his throat. Gwen frowned, "You don't believe it, do you?"

"I can't say I've even thought of this kind of thing as a possibility so I don't know what I believe about it." John crouched, studying the construction. "Who's to say what is and isn't magical?"

"What do you think is magical?"

"I don't rightly know." John shrugged, "The River People who raised me believed their healing songs were magical and I watched a few people they sang to rise up and walk. But I also saw some who succumbed and died under the influence of the same songs. My old boss talked about the power of miracles but I never really bought into it."

"Then what do you believe?"

"I believe the sun will shine, rain will come, and that there's something a bit magical about this place." John waved a hand about them. "It's got a feeling I can't quite describe."

"Something like… love?" Gwen prodded and John smiled.

"I don't know. The kind of love I'd feel here is different than any kind I've felt before and I can't rightly say I know what it is."

"I think you love her." Gwen nodded her head, her mind made up on that fact. "The way you look at her. I've only ever seen that look in my father's eyes when he looked at my mother or when he talks about her. That's love alright."

"Is that what's in the air here?"

"Probably and it's magical enough on it's own." She sighed, "I guess we'd better go in before they think we got lost in a drift or something."

"I think we should too." John let Gwen lead the way back, after locking the door. "Why'd you show me the bed and not Ms. Smith anyway?"

"Because if anyone's got True Love's Kiss ready for someone, it's you for her." Gwen stopped, "If you need it, bring her here. It might be the only way to save her."

"What if even that doesn't save her?"

"Then I don't know." Gwen slumped her shoulders, "It's the only thing I've got left to believe in I think."

"It's a good thing to believe in." John put a hand on her shoulder. "We've all got to believe in something bigger than ourselves."

"What if it fails to sustain us?"

"Then we'll find something new to believe in." John took a deep breath in the cold air. "Eventually we'll find something that won't fail us anymore."

"Like you found Anna?"

"Like I found Anna."

"Then I hope you can keep each other forever." Gwen paused at the door, "Just like you'll keep this a secret, yes?"

"I won't tell a soul." John put a hand to his heart. "Our secret."

"Good. I don't want to be making fairy beds for everyone."


	9. Smoke and Kisses

John walked with Anna through the garden, the lights from the house behind them guiding their path. Anna left her coat inside, her breath misting heavily on the air, and John held her hand in the crook of his double-layered arm. She sidled closer to him.

"What was it like, for you, growing up in the city?"

"Very different from how you grew up I imagine."

"Very likely." Anna nudged into his side, "Go on then. Tell me your story and I can tell you mine."

"Well," John coughed, "I floated on the river in a boat, like Moses."

"You told me that part." Anna's fingers, warm despite the chill in the air that had his teeth chittering together. "You said you grew up in a community of river people or something."

"Then see, you already know my story."

"Not really," Anna tugged at his sleeve. "You said you left them. What'd you do then?"

"While I lived with them I sang in the streets before my voice cracked, I'd shine shoes, sell papers, and even nick a wallet or two when I was near starving." John shrugged, "Life's a funny morality when you're hungry and your stomach is gnawing at you."

"Did you ever get caught?"

"No," John waved her off. "I was very good with my fingers and slick with my hands. No one saw me coming and I slipped like a shadow between them."

He grinned at her, their faces blue and darkly shadowed with the lingering lights behind them and the moon almost risen in the sky. "That's what it means to be good where I'm from."

"And then?"

John's smile fell a bit. "That's when I fell in with Vera. She heard about me and what I could do and… I was an idiot. I thought she'd offer me more adventure than a tin hut I shared with two girls by the river."

"Your wives?"

"They were like my sisters. Everyone on the river was basically like my family and so it made all the easier to leave."

"Really?" Anna stopped, the snow under her feet still crisply crunching like his but darkening as it went to melt. "I would've thought family would've made it harder to leave."

"Not when you're feeling their pressure." John waved a hand back at the Grange. "I'd suspect you've dealt with a fair bit of overbearance from your family before."

"Before, yes." Anna bit her lip, staring at the house too. "It's difficult to feel that anyone has expectations for you when they're all trying their best to be falsely cheery so you're not going to notice how frightened they are. But they forget, I can see the fear in their eyes. The sorrow. And the love."

"I never lacked for that until I turned to Vera." John shoved his hands into his pockets, the tips of his fingers tingling as they continued walking. "I just thought she'd offer me more adventure. More than that, I wanted to get away from all the pesky girls who'd known me since childhood and played their games as little girls that I'd one day be their husband and grew up believing I wanted to marry them."

"Was it that you didn't want to marry, Mr. Bates?"

"It was that I didn't want to marry them." John sighed, "Lives that involved family and love and children are for people with homes and employment. I'm good with my hands and I've got skills with machines but I don't have an education but the kind the street buys you. More than that, I don't have the people who'd put up enough to give me a chance."

"Wouldn't my father-?"

"Ms. Smith," John put up a hand, "I mean no disrespect to you or your father. He's a kind man and generous enough letting me stay here under rather dubious circumstances, but I promised him I wouldn't take a penny from him. And I won't do that with you either. If there's a way to be made for me I need to make it on my own, with my merits counting for me."

"But you just said no one will give you the chance."

"Maybe not here. But there are other places where they don't know your name and you could make a life for yourself without anyone realizing it's a lie." John grinned, winking at her, "I'm resourceful."

"That I'd bet you are." Anna let out a breath, billowing from her mouth before her hands trailed over the branches of the nearest bush to disturb the snow there. "I wish I'd seen the city as you did."

"Freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer?"

"From within it." Anna stepped away from him, leading by half a pace as John followed. "My father's always been very protective of my family. My mother, God rest her soul, died when Gwen was born. It made my father anxious, in a way, he'd never been before."

"He seems too wise a man for anxiety."

"In business or in his daily affairs he's the picture of cool calculation and direct frankness." Anna turned half over her shoulder, waiting for the moment it took John to be at her side again. "But when it comes to his children, his family, he's the kind of man who bars the windows and pulls up the drawbridge."

"He did…" John coughed, dragging his foot in a line in the snow. "He warned me away from your room for the duration of my stay."

Anna laughed, "I suspect he did. Though why he's concerned for my virtue when there's no man who would, in his right man, attempt to marry a consumptive like myself."

"There's the possibility of money."

"My father's very clear that his money remain with the family. Any money I'd bring into any marriage would've been mine and mine alone. I'd have passed it to my children but my husband wouldn't gain a single cent of my money." Anna smiled, "My father is a rather jealous man as well."

"He's smart. Plan like that keeps the knaves and scoundrels from your door." John grinned back at her and they laughed a moment. "But you've never seen the city?"

"When I was young my mother would take me to the park but after…"

"Never again then?"

Anna shook her head. "I've seen plays and operas and performances and attended far too many meaningless activities in a society that shunned me the moment they heard I was ill but nothing of real worth. It's only twice a year we come here to Downton."

"But this isn't the city." John turned his head toward the stars. "You can't get a view like this here but there's something at the city that just eats at your insides until you can't stay away. It's like a drug just for your system."

"I've had more than enough drugs in my system to think we could find a better analogy."

"Alright," John nodded, searching for something. "It's like… air. You need it to survive and you'll find different air everywhere you go but you'll never find air like you have in the city. It's a life unto itself and every time you breathe it in you've become one with the city again. It's yours and you are its and…"

"And you speak too much like a poet to live your life stealing from houses Mr. Bates." Anna pulled herself close to him again, her fingers a bit colder on his skin than before. "My father said you were well read."

"Conversation at diner aside, I'm nothing compared to him."

"My father's had longer." Anna paused as the garden turned back toward the house. "Might I impose on you for a favor, Mr. Bates?"

"I'm at your service Ms. Smith." John opened his hands, "I promise to give you what I can though I can promise nothing as to what I could actually give you."

"You mean you won't promise to find a way to fetch me the moon should I want it?" Anna's eyebrows rose and her lips pursed but John noted the hint of a laugh there.

"Why give you the moon when it can stay there where all can enjoy it?" John pointed up to the sky. "It's beautiful enough for all there and I can share the moon with you right now."

"Truly an artist with your words Mr. Bates." Anna slid her hand down his arm to intertwine their fingers. "But would you grant me your promise to fulfill on this favor?"

"And what would that be?"

"To kiss me, before I die?"

John blinked, "I beg your pardon?"

"It's no illusion that I'm dying Mr. Bates. All the doctors from here to D.C. only disagree on the 'when' not the 'if' of the affair and I decided, long ago, I would not die without being kissed."

"I'm not sure I'd be worthy to be the one to kiss you."

"Mr. Bates," Anna took both his hands in hers, forcing his eyes to meet hers at the shock of cold he found there. "I do believe, despite all the irrationality of it and the blatant defiance of logic, that I love you. I know it's not ladylike to say it but it's how I believe I feel and despite the station of my birth I've never claimed to be a lady."

John slipped one of his hands free of her grasp and drew his finger over her cheek, watching the faint hint of red there and noting her shiver. "You are a lady to me and I've never met a finer one."

They stared at one another, John's finger continuing to idly draw nonsensical figures over her cheek while her hands clutched his. After a beat John dipped his head down and Anna tipped hers up. He watched her eyes flutter closed and he let his do the same when his lips touched hers.

It bit a moment, the chill between them and the temperature making sensation difficult, but when John maneuvered his finger to join his hand in cupping the back of her head the kiss deepened and he could feel it all. The sensation washing over him stung like the bite of the wind but then raged like any fire he ever stoked himself. For a brief moment he felt nothing at all and the world was still when in the next the sound grew to cacophonous decibels and every nerve in his body sparked as if on fire.

Only the need for air they did not pull from one another drove them apart. John, breathing hard, watched Anna's face flush and then turned his gaze to the ground. The snow around her darkened and melted in an ever-growing circle. Anna, smiling, took back her hands and stepped away from him to grab two handfuls of snow and hold them to her forehead and the back of her neck.

"You'll make me melt whatever snow I'm standing on if you do that again Mr. Bates." She giggled at him, the cold rivulets of the melted snow in her hands teasing John with their steady journeys under the collar of her dress.

"Give me enough time and I could help you melt all the snow in the world." He breathed and Anna stopped, two more handfuls of snow in her hand. "I don't know what I feel or how to describe it but I want it to burst from my chest so I could share it with the whole world."

"I'd rather your heart stay in your chest." Anna stepped closer to him, smoothing the snow over her extremities as the snow underfoot melted less quickly now. "And I want to keep you all to myself."

"That can be arranged." John offered her his arm again and they walked back to the house. "But that might get difficult."

"And why do you say that?"

"There's supposed to be some kind of Christmas Ball isn't there?"

Anna frowned, "If there is I've never been. That kind of excitement, especially with as hot as the building might get, would terrify my father. He'd lock on the roof before he'd let me attend."

"Perhaps you could convince him there'll be dancing on the terrace where you'll be pelted with the unforgiving December wind here." John shivered, "It cuts through my very bones."

"That's just the weather wanting to embrace you tightly." Anna paused, her fingers trailing over his hand. "As tightly as I'd want to embrace you if I had the chance."

John turned, not speaking until she raised her eyes to meet his. "If I could I'd hold onto you and never let go."

"I think, had we both more time, I would rather like that." Anna tugged on his fingers, "Come on, before you freeze and I melt the rest of the snow here."

They walked back to the house, John escorting Anna all the way to the set of stairs that led to the rooftop platform where she slept. He stopped her when she tried to turn and brought her hand to his lips, placing a delicate kiss there. Her skin reddened and he released as her eyes twinkled in response to the smile he hoped would never leave her face.

"Goodnight, Ms. Smith."

"Goodnight Mr. Bates."

* * *

Vera glanced at the paper O'Brien held in front of her and flicked her eyes over the print. It morphed and altered until it spelled out the message it needed to send. Vera only snorted, "Why are all angels such conspirators?"

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." Vera shook her head, snapping her fingers to disperse the posse around her and walking toward the park. "It's hard to understand when you haven't got the brain to."

"I've got a-"

"Shut up." Vera snapped, "You ask a question and then don't allow me to explain. I might start thinking you prefer your own company to mine, Sarah O'Brien."

"Of course not."

"Then pay attention." Vera ruffled the paper in O'Brien's face before dropping it in the other woman's hands. "Angels, sent by God, carry holy messages. They're here as lackeys and servants of their great Master's bidding and they hold themselves much to seriously for my taste. They're weak and arrogant and will swing their flaming swords down to end humanity the first moment their great Master gives them the go."

"What's that got to do with the paper?"

"Even when they fall-"

"I thought all the angels who fell weren't angels anymore but demons?" O'Brien frowned and Vera stopped, the resigned sigh that escaped her setting all the hairs on O'Brien's body on end.

"Those weren't angels. Those were spirits who rejected God. Angels are His servants but some of them make mistakes and they fall here. They lose their wings." Vera stared up at the gray sky, just tinged with a white of the rising sun as the city woke itself from a temporary slumber to greet a new day and battle the elements for supremacy. "I always wondered, about those wings. I never went for white, wouldn't want a pair like that for myself, but I could take a nice pair of black wings. A pair to match my coat."

Vera pulled at her coat, running her hand over the fur around the collar. "Looks better on me than it did that skinny old biddy didn't it."

"Course it does." O'Brien hurried to say, folding up the paper to between hold between her arm and her body. "But why would you want wings?"

"To fly, idiot." Vera smacked the paper. "It's what makes them so holier-than-thou about their duties. They can fly over the whole earth and across the universe in a snap of my fingers. It's why they take to leaving notes and messages in mundane ways like this. Makes them feel important when they've lost themselves to the earth."

"Oh… when they fell?"

"Yes, when they fell." Vera turned back to the park, continuing toward her destination. "Raven's wings. Big, black, raven's wings. Then I could fly over the whole earth."

She chose a bench and motioned O'Brien away to a far one. The other woman opened the paper still in her hands and read it while they waited. Vera looked up toward the clock on the nearest government building and watched the large hands ticking for the minutes until they slowed and stopped.

With a smile she stood, seeing O'Brien frozen in the middle of turning a page in the paper, and all the others in the little area about them caught in the midst of their actions. She turned a circle over the carefully laid bricks, noting the different activities of the goers through the park before a beam of light caught in her periphery. It struck near her and a figure hit the ground, bowed forward on one knee and then straightening as the pillar vanished.

When the light was gone a man, in a beige coat with a light grey bowler and a while suit stood there. He shuffled a moment until he caught sight of Vera, in her stolen black coat and the charcoals of her clothing, and pursed his lips. "I didn't want to meet here. They'll see me."

"Then let them. If your Master's so powerful than he already knows you owe a favor to a demon and it won't put you right with Him to ignore it." Vera sidled closer and they fell into step, taking a turn about the little park with its occupants paused in their pursuits like professional mimes. "Besides, it won't be doing anything that'll make you lose the estate you clung to by the skin of your teeth after you lost your wings."

"At least I once had wings." He snapped back, "I never should've taken your offer of a favor."

"Then maybe you should've been a good little angel and not fallen into temptation." Vera shrugged, "First Eve with her apple and then you with your… proclivities."

"It's not as foul as you make it sound."

"But it's not right is it." Vera stopped them, hissing through her teeth. "You chose your Master long ago and now you're suffering the consequences of rejecting the offer given you before Time was born."

"We're not here to discuss the fall of your master or the Grace of mine." He stopped himself, Vera shrinking back slightly as a glow edged him and the vague hint of a fiery sword flared in his hand. After a moment the hint was gone and he pulled at his coat. "We're here to discuss the favor I owe you so I can pay this debt and the balance of life can be restored."

"Balance." Vera snorted, "There's no balance to the exchange of favors Thomas Barrow."

"What's the mark you're calling in, Vera?"

Vera eyed him a moment before pulling a vial from her pocket. "I need you to travel north and put this in the drink of a dying girl."

"Mercy doesn't seem your style." He eyed the vial, pulling it up toward the light to investigate it. "It's not poison."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Vera pulled her coat closer about herself. "It's… a bit more refined than poison and will do what I need it to when you administer it."

"And what do you need from it." Thomas stored the vial in a pocket and waited as Vera raised an eyebrow. "A favor is a favor. I pay yours back as you gave me mine. That's not going to change no matter what I know about the contents of this vial."

He patted his pocket and Vera pursed her lips. "It's a bit of epinephrine. Helps get the blood to pump and adds a bit of dazzle to the eyes when one might want a bit more to experience."

"And there's no… deleterious effects?"

Vera's lips curved up, "I thought you said it didn't matter what was in it."

"It doesn't."

"Then I'll say that, for a normal person, it'll do nothing but help them have a bit more energy."

"Not always a bad thing." Thomas turned to the clock. "I'd best go. Your five minutes is nearly up."

"You never did say why you gave up those fluffy wings." Vera eyed him as Thomas walked back toward the center of the park. "What made the fall worth it?"

"It didn't. The worth didn't come from falling. It comes from recovering from the fall." He put a hand to the ground and then shot upward in a pillar of weak light.

Vera craned her head up to investigate the sky as the clock's tick echoed in her ears and the low rumble of the city came back to her. O'Brien was at her side in a moment, paper still clutched in her grip. "What happened? Why isn't her here?"

"He came and went already." Vera frowned at the paper, tapping it with her hand. "Get rid of that and follow me. We've got other work to do."

* * *

John snorted himself awake and then blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what woke him. Another belch and bellow had him out of bed and stumbling into a pair of trousers as a rattling echoed through the walls. He put his ear to the paneling and then rushed into the corridor, almost tripping over Gwen as she came out of her room.

"What's going on?"

"There's been a malfunction with the boiler." Both of them looked to see the housekeeper coming toward them. "Nothing to worry yourself too badly over Ms. Gwen. Just get yourself into something decent while I fetch your sister and then we'll just go wait at the Crawley's until they sort this out."

"But if it's-" John started to say as another rocking groan filled the house and an echoing boom came from below. "I'll go and see if I can help."

"They've got it well in hand, Mr. Bates. Between Mr. Smith and the handyman they'll handle it."

"There aren't too many cooks in the kitchen in this." John nodded at her, his eyes meeting briefly with Anna's as she wrapped a dressing gown around herself, her foot still on the bottom step leading to her rooftop bed. "It'll be alright."

She smiled at him and John hurried down the stairs. His feet slipped a bit on the floor but he caught his balance and hurried into the basement of the house. The reek of burning and the shrill scream of steam drown out all other sounds but John managed to get over to where Mr. Smith and a man in coveralls wrestled with the boiler. He tapped Mr. Smith's shoulder and they yelled at one another to be heard over the rattling roar of the boiler.

"Let me help."

"It's blocked and I think one of the handles is corroded. We can't open the valves." Mr. Smith shouted back, shaking his head. "Get out of the house and make sure the household's out as well."

"I'm of better use here." John rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt and grabbed two dry rags to wrap around his hands and opened all the covers on the boiler. The handles had corroded and some appeared close to rusting away before his eyes. Snatching two wrenches from the box of tools he applied them to the first handle and used the tip of his foot to nudge the handyman. "Help me here."

The man came over and John called out to Mr. Smith. "You'd best get your family out of here Mr. Smith and leave us to handle this."

"This is my wife's house and it's all I've left of her. I'll go down with this ship if I have to."

"It's not a ship, sir, and you're got two daughters upstairs who are what's left of your wife." John nodded at the handyman. "When I saw three, crank counterclockwise."

"Right."

John met Mr. Smith's eyes. "She's safe in our hands sir. Go get your daughters out."

Mr. Smith nodded, leaving quickly and John nudged the handyman with his shoulder. "Three."

And so it went. The screaming of the steam and the bolts jostling against a boiler threatening to expand and then explode about them as they forced each value open. John's arms, as he sought better holds, met the sizzling edges of the metal doors or the handles and he hissed like the steam trying to escape through the smallest of cracks when angry slivers of burns left their marks over him. Soot and dirt covered them, forcing sweat to make its way in dirty rivulets down their faces and necks until they reached the last one.

With a mighty heave they cranked and yanked until it turned. The needle, for so long twitching and threatening at the red line, drew back as a rocking belch broke through the boiler. It rattled up the pipe to leave what John imagined was a large cloud of black soot billowing in the sky above them. He and the handyman checked each of the needles and valves until they both felt secure enough to step back.

John peeling the tattered and torn rags from his hands and noted the blisters, the burns, and the cuts that left red and pink skin angrily signaling his body to the abuse. He sighed, nodding at the handyman as he gratefully took a clean rag to mop at his face and they ascended the stairs together. They looked such a fright that a maid gave a scream when she saw them but they just laughed and went to greet the bright sunlight.

Drifting away in a gentle breeze, John noted the dark cloud and then stuck his arms in the piles of snow beside the stairs to soothe the burns and clean himself. A moment later he stuck his head in and forced his brain to ignore the shrill cry at the cold before emerging to shake himself free of it. As he did Mr. Smith wrapped him in a hug that almost drove what little air he had left in his soot-lined and contracted lungs. But Mr. Smith's grip did not slacken until he was ready, wiping tears form his eyes and ignoring the stripes of black now covering his clothing.

"Thank you."

"It was no trouble." John opened his hands and then drew them behind his back, hiding the evidence of his fight with the boiler from view. "I've just got a mind for how things work."

"I…" Mr. Smith wiped at his eyes. "You saved my house. You saved my wife's house."

"I helped open the valves in a boiler, sir. I did something small."

"But it's not small to me." His hand clapped down on John's shoulder. "It's not small to me."

As he left, John turned his head and caught sight of Anna. She managed a small smile and then walked toward him, her hands catching his sleeves and forcing his arms forward so she could see the damage. John tried to retract but she forced him to remain still, saying nothing.

After a moment she tugged on his shirt. "Follow me and I'll get you sorted."


	10. Spirit of Giving

Anna applied the salve and John hissed, trying to retract his arm. "Don't tell me that hurts worse than when you got it."

"I didn't feel it when I got it." John lowered his head when she raised her eyebrow at him. "I didn't feel it much when I got it."

"I have heard that excitement can make you ignore certain things." Anna drew back, adding more of the liquid to a rag to dab at another angry burn on his arm. "I wouldn't know since I've never had the chance to really experience excitement that way."

"Never?"

Anna laughed, wiping at his arm and lancing another of his blisters and cleaning up the skin around it. "You're talking to the same woman who lived her entire life in a house where her well-meaning father wanted her kept from any kind of excitement so as to keep her healthy and safe."

"But you still enjoyed your childhood yes?"

"I had a very happy childhood." Anna smiled at him, wiping another spot on his arm. "My parents loved one another and they loved us. For all the things about life that might not've been like the other children, there were more books than I could ever hope to read in my home, there was laughter and happiness, we had some of the greatest minds and fastest speakers, and I was never excluded from listening or participating in the conversations that went on in the library and sitting room."

"Sounds heavenly." John snorted, "I can't imagine being surrounded by that caliber of people."

"Wasn't your childhood a happy one?"

"Of course and I learned a lot from it but I would've loved to have a bit more available to me. Learning from books instead of just learning on the street."

"You learned from books."

"But books like those?" John motioned a hand toward the shelves in the visible study. "I've never had the wealth of the world's knowledge at my fingertips. That's something I could never get enough of if I had it."

"You're welcome to any of them you might want to read."

"It's more than that…" John shrugged, "It's that I wonder if I would've done so much more had I the chance. I could've been so much more if I had the chance."

"Your life's not over. There's still a chance to be all those things that you want to be." Anna dabbed at the last part of his arm and unwound a line of bandage to wrap over the injuries. "You can still live the full life you want to live."

"It's not the same when you're the kind of person I am."

"Why not?" Anna watched his face, carefully stringing the bandage out to wrap it tightly without cutting into his skin. "You're capable and inventive. You saved a house by figuring out a boiler and that takes skill. Skill and brains you've obviously got plenty of."

"But I've got no references and nothing to make me that kind of man." John snorted, "I could read every book in the Metropolitan Library and it wouldn't make me any more capable of getting a job than anyone else. I could devour every book in the world and I still have far too many bits and pieces to my personality that rub people the wrong way."

Anna tucked the end of the bandage in place before addressing the other arm. "Are you making an assumption about what people think of you?"

"I'm a thief, what else could they think of me?"

She snorted, dabbing at his arm to address the cuts before lancing the blisters there as well. "You don't have to tell them you were a thief."

"They'll certainly ask about it if Vera comes looking for me."

"Then I guess you'll just have to deal with her before it becomes a larger issue." Anna shrugged up a shoulder at his expression. "It was just a suggestion."

"She's…"

"You don't have to explain her to me." Anna soothed, finishing on his other arm and wrapping it up like the first. "I've met her and in those few minutes I knew I'd never want to meet her again."

"And yet you think no less of me for having spent years with her?"

"Why would I think less of you?"

"As you've said, you've met her." John inspected the first bandage, flexing and bending his arm to check the flexibility. "What does it say about me that I spent time with her?"

"We all make mistakes." Anna finished the bandage. "And I can't think less of you for coming to my rescue when I needed one."

"You wouldn't have needed one without me."

"Maybe not." Anna pulled back, cleaning up the mess on the table. "But then I wouldn't have an adventure and given I've not had many of those in my life I can't say I would argue with another chance."

"Would Vera be involved in your further adventures?"

"I'd hope not." Anna held his gaze. "I'd want whatever adventures lie before me to include you."

"Can they when I'm a danger to you?" John patted his fingers over the bandages and stood when Anna took the unused bandages and the glass bottle of salve toward a box on the side table. "Me being here is a threat to you."

"I don't feel threatened."

"But perhaps you should." John put a hand on her shoulder, stopping Anna with the salve still in her hand. "Vera didn't follow us over the river but that doesn't mean she couldn't find a way to follow us. Or that she won't try to reach me here. Or you here to get to me."

"She's still human, John."

"Sometimes I don't know."

Anna shrugged, "Then I guess we'll have to find our way through it all together." John opened his mouth as if to speak but Anna put her fingers over his lips. "You need rest and so do I."

"Anna," John stopped her moving, the glass bottle caught in their hands. "Please don't pretend this isn't a serious concern."

"I'm not." Anna extracted her hands to slip the salve into the box. "And I do, genuinely think, that we need sleep. We can discuss this tomorrow."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes." Anna raised her hand, brushing her fingers down his face before pulling back. "That's a promise."

John opened his mouth as if to say something else but snapped his jaw shut. Anna frowned at him but he shook his head and grabbed her hand instead. His lips touched her skin and Anna suppressed a shiver at the sensation of the kiss on the back of her hand.

He released her hand quickly and reached for a glass from the table to press to her forehead. Anna smiled at him, closing her eyes a moment to lose herself in the coolness of the glass he pressed there. After a moment she took the glass for herself and set it back on the table. She extended her hand to him and John took it but then set her hand on his elbow instead of allowing their skin to touch.

They walked through the quiet of the settled house to the stairs. The ascension to the stairway that led to her rooftop tent beckoned but neither of them moved from the entrance. Anna risked a look up toward them before sliding her hand down his arm to his hand.

Ignoring the expression of confusion, Anna tugged him after her toward the door that led out onto the roof. John followed her but Anna noted his reluctance. She stopped on the stairs, turning on the spot, and took his other hand in hers.

"I'd like you to come with me."

"Your father gave me a very clear rule." John warned but Anna only grinned at him. "What? I'm not going to anger the man who's good book I just got written into when I saved the house."

"He'll make an exception." Anna drew her hand along the side of his face, tracing his forehead to push a piece of hair back. "If he even finds out."

"He won't find out?" John frowned and Anna shook her head.

"No because we'd have to see you and he won't." Anna tugged gently on his hand again. "Come on."

She opened the door on the roof and sighed at the sensation of cold air licking her skin. John shivered and Anna pulled him under the flap of her tent on the roof. A brazier in the corner flickered when the wind and her dragging motion rocked the coals. Before she could address it, John stepped forward to feed the fire inside.

"Don't want you to burn yourself."

"Shouldn't I be saying that to you?" Anna dragged her fingers over the bandages over his arms and noted the twitch there. "I'd hate for you to injure yourself again."

"This is something I can handle." John leaned over, bringing his arm up with her hand still there, and kissed her fingers. "It'll help boost my ego."

"Do you need to boost your ego?"

"I'm nervous so yes, I'll need every bit of help I can find."

"Then I'll leave you to it."

Anna stood up, moving away from John as he busied himself with the brazier and she secured all the flaps on the tent. Each tightened tie made her fingers tremble a bit more so Anna paused and rubbed them together. For the first time in her life the cold of them bit and she let out a little laugh.

"What is it?" John's voice brought her out of her reverie with a jolt.

"My fingers are cold." Anna smiled at them, pulling for a moment as if the cold were a pair of gloves she might consider removing. "They've not been cold for a long time."

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"It's truly nothing I-" As Anna turned around something stopped her. Towering above her, with hands more gentle than some fabrics she handled, was John. He took her fingers delicately into his grasp, manipulating them to kiss over each one individually before nodding at the last flap.

"I think you should leave it open."

"You'll freeze."

"I'm hardier than I look." His lips barely left her skin but barely touched at the same time. "And you'll need the cold air if what I think is playing over your mind is going to happen."

"Is that so?" Anna tried to grin with all the nonchalance she could muster but the ever-so-delicate tug of his hands to pull her closer to his body destroyed all hopes of a dismissive attitude. She forced her throat to clear with a hard swallow. "And what, Mr. Bates, do you think I've played out in my mind?"

"I believe that you'd rather like to have your way with me in your little tent up here Ms. Smith." John bent his head, fingers gracing over her cheek to just tempt at the back of her neck. "And I think you've been planning it since you mentioned never being kissed."

"That's where you'd be grossly incorrect, Mr. Bates." Anna swallowed again, her hands cupping over his remaining hand and allowing him to hold it close to his chest. "I only imagined this after you kissed me."

"And why's that?"

"Because I couldn't imagine there could be anything better than a kiss."

"And now?" He whispered, their mouths not far enough apart for the air to even cloud about them. "What do you think now?"

"I think there's much more you could show me." Anna slipped a hand free to hold onto his soot-stained undershirt. "I need you to show me."

And he did.

His lips settled on hers and then waited. Waited until Anna's fingers curled into his shirt to jerk him forward before pulling away. When Anna tried to whine about the loss he went for another kiss. This one brushed his tongue over her lips until all she could do was sigh into his mouth.

She let her tongue sneak out, as if to taste him as well, but John outmaneuvered her and opened his mouth to tease her tongue further inside. Each move was calculated to put her in a position to do more, wish more, desire more. And each motion he made did nothing but rake her coals higher with tempting touches and barely-there brushes.

Anna tried to find a better hold. Some way to guide him as she wanted, to respond to the emotions welling up inside her, some way to express those things she could not even name. The flail of her fingers on him paused John's momentum and she worried for a moment. Her breath hitched but John only raised his hand to her eyes and covered them, ignoring the furrow in her brow to whisper.

"You want it over far too soon Anna."

"I can't stand it if we move slowly."

"If we don't then you'll set the tent ablaze and your father will have no choice but to kill me because he'll know I was up here." John's lips moved toward her ear and Anna shivered. "If you can't breathe, start reciting the colors to calm yourself."

"Why could I want to be calm?"

"Because if you're not then you can't appreciate the delicacy." His lips skated over her cheek, his hand only shifting slightly to allow him to move around her eyes. "If you're too quick then you'll miss things."

"If I don't I'll burst."

"Then I'll have to do my best to contain you." His breath hissed against her other ear, "Or just direct it."

"Where?" Anna's lungs crushed against her ribs, her fingers scrabbling ton find a hold on John's undershirt.

"To helping you find the pleasure you deserve." He drew back and Anna blinked as he removed his hand. "Will you let me show you pleasure? Do you trust me to give it to you?"

"Yes." Ann could not even be sure he heard her until he dipped to kiss her again.

Her arm flung over his shoulders to settle around his neck as John lifted her clear of the rooftop. He laid her back on the bed as if she weighed nothing at all and yet made her feel as if she was the most valuable treasure. Anna sank back into the chilled pillows and closed her eyes to better absorb the dueling passions.

One was the heat of John's weight above and around her, ever tender and respectful, as he thoroughly explored every inch of her skin. The other was the chill of the air wafting about the tent from the flap he insisted stay open. It soaked into her bed, cooling the fire licking over her skin and racing through her blood, and rustled her hair between the stroking adoration John showed to it when his nose nuzzled there before separating individual strands with his fingers.

She sighed as her body relaxed. The fire dulled to a steady thump of her heart instead of a body-wrecking inferno. But there was strength to the fire John coaxed with his determined and dedicated touches. It gave rise to the steady blush over Anna's exposed skin but still allowed her to shiver when John's hands teased at tie of her dressing gown.

Anna sat up, leaning into the hand John placed on her chest so he slid toward her breast. John adjusted on the bed, trying to move his hand, but Anna caught it and replaced his hold on her as she rolled her shoulders to leave her dressing gown hanging over the brass headboard. Unable to suppress the grin when it was his turn for his breath to catch, Anna leaned forward more.

Slipping her fingers under his braces, she worked them down his arms and then ran her fingers along the line of her trousers to roll the hem of his shirt. He shifted to grab the ends of the shirt himself and pull it over his head. The sleeves caught for a moment on his arms but Anna reached out to stretch the fabric and let it fall away.

Their hands reached out as if they would breach the barrier between two worlds. Her fingers flexed, hesitant and driven, until they touched his skin. For a moment Anna pulled back but then she let her palm hold him, spreading her fingers wide to let more of him invade her sensory perception. The counters of his skin guided her until Anna reached the hem of his trousers. Then she met his eyes and retraced the path.

But she added her other hand.

Her focus was consumed with the view of him. The skin, dusted with hair as dark as that on top of his head, painted a slight red in the pulsing glow of the brazier. Between that and the yellow lights strung along her tent, Anna wondered if anyone wandering the frozen night might wonder who else was up on the roof with her. And for a moment she wondered if perhaps she should have paid John's words more heed.

Instead, his hands drove that thought from her mind. They sculpted up her exposed arms, finds every dip and cranny on her skin to trace as if he wanted to commit them to memory. Each sweep of his calloused fingers rasped against her until all the slight hairs on her body stood on end.

Slight gasps and sighs echoed between them as they chased the minutest pleasure from the other while sinking into the sensation of chasing their own as well. Any motion led them to learn more and react differently. It was like a dream that Anna moved through with the sluggish speed of someone trapped in a snowdrift. So much so that when she found herself straddling John in the middle of her bed, Anna genuinely struggled to remember how she put herself there.

Even through their layers, Anna suspected John's constant shuffle and the sucking of his abdomen was so he would not offend her sensibilities. But Anna only let her smile curl up at the sides to make her almost leer in the dimness when she tightened her hold on his upper arm and the other on his shoulder to grind down. They slid over one another, the fabrics twisting and catching to pull tight against their skin, but the motion achieved its purpose. John's head went back and he moaned toward the night sky like a wolf.

Anna moved her hand from his arm to his cheek, her thumb stroking down there as John hauled in breaths that sent his chest practically bumping into hers. Their eyes met and Anna sank into the kiss John directed toward her. Her fingers skirted his jaw to find the back of his neck and tangle into his hair to control what she could of a kiss he guided with his stronger hand at the back of her head and his fingers interlaced in her locks.

They pressed forward until neither could breathe. Anna gasped, nipping and licking her way to his ear as she pressed herself closer to him. "Don't make me wait any longer. Please?"

"Only if you're sure."

"I am." Anna let out in a rush before pressing herself back a moment to meet his eyes. "I am, John."

His hand massaged her neck before spreading and shifting back to her shoulder. With a nudge, he laid her back onto the bed and began his assault on her skin again. Anna moaned, weaving her fingers into his hair to find a hold as he let his attentions drift lower, and twisted into him as his hands glided up her thighs to bunch and ruck her nightdress higher.

When he reached her knickers, his fingers only danced over the material in his quest to push her nightdress higher. Anna squirmed, trying to increase his speed so he could return to leaving the sensations on her skin, but John took his sweet time to tug the material over her head. She shook the material away and stopped at the expression on John's face.

Had his jaw hit the bed itself it could not open any farther. Anna went to raise a hand to cover herself but John caught her wrist. He swallowed and opened his mouth as if to speak but he could not find anything to say. Another swallow dipped his Adam's apple toward his chest as he laid Anna's hand back on the bed.

"Don't." Was all he managed to say until his fingers caressed the skin of her arm so it blushed a sated pink instead of the twinge of red from embarrassment. "Don't hide yourself from me."

His lips met hers again, encouraging her to sink into the glories of his mouth while his hands acquainted themselves with her newly exposed skin. Skin that burned under his touch while also bearing the kiss of cold from the air circulating through the tent from the open flap. Anna took her hand over his arm, trekking back toward his neck so she could hold there and take as much from the kiss as she wanted.

John gave her all. Each stroke of his tongue, every nip of his teeth, and endless explorations of his mouth until there was nothing for her to do but whimper and keen into the kiss. A kiss she learned served as the satisfying distraction for him when John's chilled fingers slid over her breasts.

Anna gasped away from him, her eyes scrunching shut in a moment to relish the affectionate study he made of her. First, with his fingers and hands in the dedicated kneading and taunting massage, and then with his mouth. The flick of his tongue against her nipple had Anna drawing her legs up as every muscle in her body contracted to try and comprehend the spark of lightning that coursed through her. The same lightning that continued with each sucking caress of his fantastic mouth on the sensitive skin of her breasts.

But again, Anna underestimated John. She had not noticed the other hand that slipped under the hem of her knickers. And she had only twitched slightly as his fingers maneuvered under the suffocating folds of the material to trace her hip. Anna did, however, notice when his finger found the bundle of nerves at the crux of her thighs.

She bucked under him, throwing John slightly off kilter so they both paused. His hand worked its way out of her knickers but, again, Anna stopped him. Raising her hips, she shimmied out of her knickers and let them fall over the side of the bed to join the pile of her night things. The kiss of the cold and the heat of him drove her wild but not as wild as John's widened eyes when she guided his hand back to the crux of her thighs.

"Show me."

He eased her legs apart, massaging and stroking along them until Anna could only sigh back onto her pillows in contentment. A contentment John urged her from slowly with teases back to her breasts, licks along the skin of her abdomen, and the finger he dragged through her folds. Anna gasped, gritting her teeth, and crunched the cold blanket under her in her hand.

The strokes her light, easy, and left her quivering under his attention. With each motion she pushed her shoulders deeper into the bed to lift her hips enough to allow John to explore the whole of her. And the noises Anna tried strangling in her throat came out in half-formed whimpers and sobs when he eased a finger into her. The stretch sharpened all of her focus and Anna tried to push her mind to the gymnastics of remembering the list of colors.

But she could hardly think. Not with his finger stretching her wider and slipping back and forth over skin and spots she never could have imagined were so sensitive. Not with his thumb pressed down on her nerves and his two finger not burying themselves deeper inside her glided along her folds. Not when she could hear the wet sounds of his hand against her. Not when her body coiled like a spring and the knuckles on her fingers went white in their clutch of the bedcovers.

She could think no more clearly when John helped her over the edge. The moment of blinding sensation that took over all of her nerves and sensory perception until it was as if the world went white. All sound faded, all feeling disappeared, and all sight was lost in the second of perception that could have been an eternity for all she remembered of it.

When Anna came back, the gentle massage of John's hand over her most feminine anatomy bringing her back to reality, she reached a trembling hand toward him. John leaned forward, kissing her fingers, and responded to her guidance as she tugged his lips to hers. The kiss was sloppy, passionate without energy as Anna tried to find reserves in her now sated, satisfied, and sparking body.

He gave her all he could but when his fingers continued their motions, another one stretching her past the point of experience, Anna's eyes flew open and she broke the kiss. John's other hand soothed over her, brushing hair back as he dotted her face with kisses. "It's alright."

"But I can't. I can't possibly… I just-"

"I won't hurt you Anna." John paused, his fingers halfway inside her to the point where Anna was sure the temptation of continued pleasure was far worse than the reality she could allow her body to tumble from that impossible height again. "This will stretch you and it might hurt but I don't want to cause you any more pain than necessary."

"So you'll kill me with pleasure?" Anna tried to laugh but her air-starved lungs could hardly find enough to help her endure the next breath much less support her attempt at humor.

"It would be a preferable way to die… as Hamlet said."

"I never did like that play." Anna raked her fingers through his hair to find a better hold and lifted her hips to send his fingers deeper. She shuddering sigh was answered with a chuckle that reverberated through John and into her. "If you're going to make me find it myself…"

John kissed her again, bringing his tongue to the fray so Anna could battle him there while her hips tried to follow his lead this time. The climax was different when she rolled her hips toward his fingers or bucked into him, and shattered her anew as he found somewhere else inside her that sent Anna practically shrieking as she came.

It was in that half-coherent state that she realized John had completely withdrawn. With hazy eyes she followed his progress and summoned the energy to lick over her lips at the sight of him dropping his trousers and pants. Had she the energy to do more, Anna wanted to trace every bit of the freshly revealed body but she could barely move from her lax position. Spread-eagled as she was, it left her open for John to mount the bed again and take position between her spread legs.

His body draped over hers, held just above her as Anna's perception of the moment cleared. Anna closed her eyes as he brushed a bit of hair from her forehead and kissed there before tracing down to her lips. He hovered there, the quiver in his muscles translating to her body, and whispered to her almost so lowly that she could not hear him over the thunder of the blood in her ears.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." Anna leaned forward to close the distance and allowed their lips to meet. "A thousand times yes."

John pressed forward and Anna focused on keeping her legs spread. The pressure increased and Anna gritted her teeth as her legs tightened on instinct. He stopped, hand stroking gently over one of her thighs to ease her muscles from their taut state. The insistence of his fingers opened her legs and Anna relaxed her jaw.

In the moment she relaxed, John surged forward and took her mouth at the same moment he thrust into her. Anna dug her nails into his skin, raking down his back until she could find a secure hold on his sides. He held there, allowing her body to acclimatize to his presence, before pulling back to the edge. She whimpered, pulling him closer and then cried out as he plunged forward again to strike her deeper than before.

Each thrust rocked her body and Anna turned her attention to lifting her hips into him. Or trying to counter his drives with motions of her own. But each time he sent her higher and higher, taking her attempts to understand and respond and returning them to her ten fold.

When she bucked her hips, he grasped under her thigh to lift her leg higher so he could fill her until their skin touched. When Anna attempted to roll against him or grind down on him, John angled his hips to strike that bundle of nerves and reach something deep inside her. When she grabbed for his buttocks to keep him deep inside her, John nipped at her breasts.

The burning roar inside her enflamed with each of John's motions until Anna could not keep her voice down. Her hands smoothed over his skin in a feverish attempt to memorize the moment but all she could do was scatter her thoughts further when he ground into her so she cried out. Anna bit back as many sounds as she could manage but John's fingers on her nerves and ass, his lips on her breasts, and the sensation of him filling her as deeply as he could reach stole the last of Anna's restraint.

She surrendered to it and sobbed out another finish. One that left her soaking in his adoring attentions until something else sparked inside of her. Something that accompanied the final stutters of John's otherwise controlled movements that took on a hint of frenzy. The wild abandon to his motions forced Anna to hang onto him until he sagged against her with a groan buried in her neck.

They held together, shifting only enough to put them on their sides, and lay there until John shivered. Anna hurried to move but her body would not respond to her demands and John laughed a little. She tried to pout but even that energy was denied her with John forced to pull back the covers on the bed.

He slipped her easily under them but did not join her. Anna raised herself up enough to reach out a hand but noted he merely danced over the cold floor to close the final flap on the tent. With a giggle at his antics, Anna opened the covers and allowed him to join her in the bed so they could snuggle together.

With her head on his chest, Anna drew her hands down the now familiar skin. The hair there still tickled over her fingers and she sighed in contentment as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They held together in the dim light until John lifted her chin with a finger so he could see her face.

"Will you go to the Christmas Ball with me?"

Anna kissed him, her hand on his cheek holding him steady for her. When she pulled back she suspected the glitter in his eyes matched the one in hers. "I'd be honored."


	11. Season for Dancing

John held the piece of fabric in his hands and draped it around his neck. His fingers fumbled with it and managed a mangled knot in a few minutes. Tugging it apart, he attempted it again before fingers covered his. He attempted to turn but the hands kept his shoulders facing the mirror.

"I can only do this from one position and you need to stay still if it's to work."

"Sir?"

"Shh!" John clamped his jaw shut and waited as Mr. Smith's fingers deftly arranged the fabric into a proper bowtie before patting his shoulder. "Turn around so I can straighten it."

John performed an about-face and Mr. Smith's delicate fingers straightened his tie and brushed over the coat. With a nod he stepped back, eyeing John up and down as if he was a model for a suit Mr. Smith wanted to buy. Another nod and his eyes met John's.

"You look rather dashing in my old tails."

"I've never worn them before so I guess we can all release our breath about the anticipation." John tugged his arms straighter. "And even if I didn't look too dashing in it, I'm grateful for the loan. I've none of my own to compare."

"I suspect you left them with all of your other luggage when you made this unexpected trip up north."

"I'd have to have other luggage to do that, sir."

"True." Mr. Smith came a step closer. "I do hope I don't have to instruct you on the finer points of serving as my daughter's escort to something like this."

"I don't believe taking a few points of advice would go amiss."

"Then only take this piece of advice," Mr. Smith held up a finger and John leaned forward. "Trust none of them. They're all rich, entitled, and they'll scalp you the moment they know you're not what they think you are."

John frowned and gave a confused nod. "Yes sir."

"And take care that my daughter does not get over heated. I'll hold you personally responsible for any changes in her temperature."

"I'll keep a mind to her at all times sir." John swallowed, his mind flashing briefly to the evening they shared on the roof. "She'll be the picture of health for tomorrow's activities."

"She's never been one for unwrapping presents. She finds it worthless since, as she says, she's not got time to use them." Mr. Smith hung his head, "Parents aren't supposed to bury their children."

John opened his mouth but closed it again, at a loss for anything to say. They stood in silence until Mr. Smith checked his watch. He huffed and then shook his head, tucking the timepiece back into his pocket.

"If there's one thing women don't understand it's the concept of time."

"Sir?"

"They take forever to arrange their hair or make up their faces or find the right clothing when, in reality, they don't need to go to the trouble." John kept his mouth closed as Mr. Smith continued. "All men need are their faces. We don't care for the rest as it's nothing but distraction."

"Perhaps it's not for us, sir."

"I hope not." Mr. Smith shook his head, pacing away from where John waited to return to his lbrary.

John raised a hand to his hair but then withdrew it as his fingers touched the carefully shellacked surface. Dropping his hands toward his pockets he almost shoved his hands in them but withdrew when he realized they did not go as deep as he needed them to. With a growl he withdrew his hands and clapped them together to drywash as he paced the foyer.

"Nervous?" John turned to see Gwen, leaning on the doorjamb in a beautiful red dress.

"Is it that obvious?"

"I guess the only thing keeping it less obvious would be if you started to drag your fingers along the floor like the animals do occasionally at the zoo in Central Park." Gwen slunk over to him, hands clasped behind her back. "What's got you so nervous?"

"I'm taking your sister to the Christmas Ball as her official escort and your father warned me away from everyone you might know there."

"Except the Crawleys he's not a fan of most of the people who live here in the winter." Gwen nodded, matching John's pace as he continued he trek back and forth down the length of the foyer. "They've either been involved in a scandal he reported on in his paper or they've been trying to sell him scandals."

"Your father doesn't want scandals sold to him?"

"He'd rather trust that most people aren't trying to make a nuisance of themselves and minding their own business."

John frowned, "He's a newspaper man."

"He believes in the necessity of digging for what you find. If someone just hands it to you then what is the point?"

"The point, in some cases is patience." Gwen stopped and John followed her gaze to the top of the stairs where Anna stood, smiling at them. "Waiting for something means that you're willing to accept the best may not yet have come."

"It has if it's on the wings of an angel." John stepped forward and extended his hand to take Anna's when she reached the bottom of the staircase. He scoped her from head to toe, noting the deep red of her dress. "It's a beautiful color on you."

"Gwen and Rosamund were both wearing red and it's the color of the season." Anna let her fingers curl around his hand. "Although we won't see Rosamund's until dinner tomorrow."

"Is she not coming to this Ball?"

"No. The children only attend the ball on New Year's Eve." Anna pivoted to face Gwen, bending at the knees to be at eye-level. "I do hope you'll change out of that immediately so you don't get anything on it before tomorrow night."

"I just wanted to see if it matched your dress." Gwen pulled a bit of the fabric of Anna's toward her. "Yours is more maroon than mine."

"Yours compliments your hair." Anna teased a bit of it before stepping back toward John. "Mine has to compliment my skin."

"To each their own."

"Quite right." All three heads turned to where Mr. Smith emerged. He approached Anna, putting his hands on her arms before drawing her into a hug. "You look absolutely beautiful."

"Thank you." Anna kissed his cheek. "And I've made us late."

"It's understandable." Mr. Smith flicked his eyes toward John. "I'm sure."

"It is." John offered Anna his arm, "Shall we?"

"We shall." Anna waved to Gwen and her father, "We'll be back after midnight. They promised fireworks this year."

"Watch them from outside, Anna. I wouldn't want you overheating."

"I won't." Anna pulled herself closer to John. "He won't allow anything to happen to me."

"I'm sure Mr. Bates will remember every necessity of decorum." Mr. Smith's expression held an unforgiving angle to it and john swallowed so hard his Adam's apple bumped his collar.

"Absolutely sir." His voice pitched and John pulled his coat from the hands of the waiting footman before helping Anna into a loose shawl. "I'll be the picture of decorum."

Anna patted her hand against his chest, "We'll be fine but we'll be a bit too late if we don't leave now."

"Travel safely."

John ducked his head and headed toward the door, holding it for Anna and then hurrying outside. He shivered as the blast of cold air hit them and pulled his coat tighter. Anna just closed her eyes and basked in the chill before taking John's hand and ascending the step into the sleigh.

"You don't need to be so worked up over my father." Anna took the seat, helping arrange the large blanket over John's lap and leaving it so he could arrange it for himself. "He's just protective."

"And what would he do to me if he knew what we'd done only a few days ago?"

"I'm sure he'd find he can't do anything about it now." Anna giggled as John took the reins, snapping them to guide the sleigh away from the house. "You know how to drive one of these?"

"I used to run a few different scams with these." John tugged the reins to guide the horses onto the track. "They're irreplaceable in the winter because so many people expect them and they're not as worried about them as they are about cabs."

"Really?"

"Seasonal desires overcome many people's regular inhibitions." John shivered, "I do hope you're feeling cold enough to enjoy the party."

"I don't plan on letting anything stop me from enjoying this evening." Anna snuggled herself closer to John. "Although I am intensely curious as to why you've not taken any time to visit me since the other evening."

"I thought we risked quite a bit the other night and I didn't want to take further advantage of your father's hospitality."

Anna leaned her head on his shoulder. "I doubt you would've."

"He almost caught me in the corridor when I returned to my room in the morning." John shook his head, "I don't believe in tempting fate."

"Then I guess you'd be a bit disappointed if I told you that I've got plans for you this evening?"

John shifted, "You are a temptress."

"And I do hope it works." Anna nodded toward lights in the distance. "There."

They guided the sleigh into the line with the others, John handing the reins to one of the footman as he stepped out and extended his hand to Anna. "Milady."

"Thank you kind sir." Anna joined him on the snow, her fingers intertwining with his. "This is lovely."

"And I do hope it'll be more comfortable." John dipped down, kissing her quickly. He went to draw back but Anna put her hand to his cheek and held him in place to deepen the kiss.

After a moment she dew back, licking over her lips. "Please let me know when your opinion about the rest of the evening changes. I am still waiting for an official answer to my salacious invitation."

"You're insatiable."

"And you're irresistible." Anna snuck a look down, shaking her head. "I'll have to be careful or I'll melt all the snow I'm standing on."

"Let me help you and we'll melt all the snow in the world."

"So you've promised." Anna interlaced their fingers. "But, for now, I think we should dance together."

"I'd like that."

John led her inside, quickly divesting himself of his coat to the man handing out tickets in return for them. Anna hung her shawl over John's coat and then laid her hand over his arm as they pivoted to enter the room. He hauled in a deep breath, shivering as her fingers graced the back of his neck.

"You can calm your heartbeat." She whispered, leaning her head toward him as John dipped to hear her better. "They'll not eat you for the main course."

"Your father warned me against all of them."

"I didn't say you shouldn't be on your guard." Anna took the first step, John hurrying to keep pace with her, "But if you show fear they can smell it on you and then they'll pounce."

"You make them sound like animals."

"Then in your scams against the upper echelons of society haven't taught you that they're worse than the most rabid of the street urchins." Anna smiled at the host, "Ms. Smith and her escort, Mr. Bates."

"Ah, yes, right this way Ms. Smith." The host snapped his shiny heels at them, weaving between the filling tables like the most expert of dancers to sweep his hand over their chairs. "Your seats for the evening, close to the terrace doors as requested."

"Thank you for your generosity at the last minute request." Anna smiled at him as John drew out her chair and helped her sit.

"It was not trouble miss. Most request away from the draft so it was perfectly convenient for us. As was your request about the main couse."

"Then they did decide on the Cornish game hens?"

"They've kept them for the evening."

"Then we'll take the first course as soon as you're prepared to bring it." Anna put her hand over John's to still the slight tremor there. "We've found ourselves famished."

"Right away Ms. Smith." He nodded at her and John before vanishing on his heel.

"What a pleasant man." Anna stroked her fingers over his hand as she sat back in her chair. "He's better than the one last year. He pestered my father for hours."

"I thought your father wouldn't allow you to attend theses before."

"I didn't. He came home hours early and regaled us for a few hours with the minutia of the evening." Anna gave her bright smile, "He's got a way with words about him that kept Gwen and I up until dawn."

"Then it's a good thing he choose the profession of a writer." John jumped slightly as a man appeared at his elbow. "Yes?"

The man, in an almost entirely white suit with carefully coifed hair that shone almost as brightly as the lights off the crystal glasses on their tables, nodded at John. "Apologies for startling you sir but I wanted to offer you and your lovely guest libations for the start of the evening."

He reached for the glasses, filling them with skill and speed that left no drops on the table but had the glasses to the brim in less time than it took John to blink. With a cough, John reached for his and turned to the man. "Are you our… man for the evening Mr. …?"

"Thomas is all you need call me for the evening, sir." He straightened, holding his decanter near the arm that draped a tea towel. "And I am assigned to this end of the room so don't hesitate to summon me should either of you need anything over the course of the evening."

"Thank you Thomas." Anna gave him her smile again but John missed her turning to him as he threw back the contents of her glass. "Do you need mine as well?"

"Would I be rude to ask for it?" John put his glass back on the table and let his shoulders hunch as he cringed. "I'm nervous."

"Well," Anna kept her hand on his, leaning up to his ear to whisper to him. "I'm nervous as well so perhaps we should be nervous together."

John tightened his fingers around Anna's and took the offered glass. "I'd like that."

"And," She put her hand over the top of the glass, "Drink this one slowly. It'd ruin the evening if you choked on it."

He could only smile and then sip at her drink.

They spent the night in a sparkling haze. John wondered if it was the company or the grander that he could never imagine or perhaps the smile that stayed crinkling the corners of Anna's eyes but he could only see the world in a haze of delectable joy. Each word from Anna almost glowed with its own aura of golden beauty. Her eyes sparkled in the light and each piece of glass in the room reflected and multiplied the light until John decided they ate and spoke on the surface of the very sun. Everything about him just burst with light and his heart almost burst at it.

The feel of Anna's gloved hand against his forehead brought him blinking to the present. Through the beautiful haze he noted Anna's frown and tried to copy it with his own mouth but laughed at it. "What is it?"

"I think we need some air." Anna tugged his hand and John followed her, rounding out of his chair as if he was a cork sprung from a bottle.

The energy soared through him and John took Anna's hand in his. As if the angels themselves wanted this night to end happily, the music began as they escaped to the terrace and John spun Anna out from him. A burst of air from her lungs clouded on the air but John used it to take her into form. With his hand just under her shoulder blade and his other hand grasped about hers, he led her around the terrace.

Swelling music, strings and the soft melodies of the winds, guided them about as John marched them around. His very fingers tingled and John saw the world as if it moved slowly. But even as he tried to match each step with his own, to move at the speed of the world, he moved too slowly. In that moment, as he gazed as Anna, he saw her from birth to death. Each moment in her too short life flashed before her eyes and the shock of the reality of her condition crushed into him like a building collapsing on his soul.

John broke away, stumbling but leaving Anna balanced on her toes. He grabbed for the railing, the shock of cold on his hands jarring his mind free. In the next instance he grabbed a handful of snow and doused his face with it as if to recover from the strongest, most euphoric drink he ever took. His eyes burned, his lungs screamed, and his body fought against the enticing tide beaconing him to return to its embrace so he might enjoy the world from a more golden shore.

He sagged against the stone, the cold sinking into him through the soaking sleeves of his jacket and resting soothingly on his forehead. Another bit of cold hit the back of his neck and John jumped, almost out of Anna's hands. She put one to his shoulder and kept the other holding a chunk of icicle to his neck.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know." John blinked, squinting into the far darkness to try and distinguish individual lights on the lake and river just beyond them. "I feel… I feel like I could see all of creation down to its component parts and tell you how it all goes back together again."

Anna gave a little laugh, pulling the icicle away to bring him so she could look into his face. "I guess two drinks was too much for you."

"I think it was the kind of drink and not the number." John ran his wet hand over his face before shaking his hand out to rid himself of the residual droplets. "It's finer than the swill I normally assume is sufficient."

"I wouldn't know. I only have wine with dinner. I've never been a big drinker." Anna pulled at his jacket, smoothing over the shoulders. "This was my father's before he stopped going to finer functions."

"He's been very kind to me."

"He's a wonderful man." Anna took a deep breath, "Do you think you're seeing the world a bit more clearly now?"

"It's getting back to its foggier self." John cringed, "I didn't embarrass us did I?"

"No." Anna shook her head, taking his frozen hand in hers and warming it on her fevered skin. "You were a bit more excited than your normally reserved self but you were far from an embarrassment. I just wish you'd been conscious enough for me to tell you all about the embarrassing things others were doing that were far more entertaining."

"I don't care about them." John took Anna into position again. "What I'd prefer is if you'd allow me to dance with you with all of my faculties in tact."

Anna gave him a smile that would have him retrieve the moon for her, should she only ask him. "I'd be delighted."

The music changed and John guided Anna about the terrace. Carefully avoiding patches of ice, sure to ruin the evening should the slick bottoms of their shoes touch it, John led the waltz. Anna's hand occasionally squeezed his but John only followed the direction or warnings it gave him. When the song finished and he went to stop Anna put a hand to his chest.

"Another?"

"I couldn't deny you anything." John whispered and started again.

In fact, they danced to each song until the snow reflected colors other than the dark blues and silver of the moon. They frowned for a moment but then Anna clapped her hands together and ducked around John to stand at the edge of the terrace. With a shiver, and folding his hands into his armpits as their cease of motion finally allowed John's body to feel the cold of the air and the resulting chill from his wet clothing, he followed her.

Soon they were joined by the brave souls who braved the cold and dark to enjoy the explosion of fireworks. The colors danced across the sky but John could barely focus on them. All he could see was the sparkle in Anna's eyes as she gazed with wonder at them. Not the wonder of a confusion or adoration but of appreciation.

He bent his head to her ear, so she could hear him without allowing those about them to engage in their conversation as well. "What do you love so much about fireworks?"

"They're an amazing scientific skill and they are so beautiful." Anna shook her head, as if in awe of the magnificent display before her that popped and exploded in bursts of color coordinated light. "It's as if we're using color to say the things we can't say. To express emotions we can only feel with our hearts but could never find the words to encapsulate for our mouths."

John traced a finger along her jaw, "I'd like to say something with my mouth but I don't think this is the place."

Anna finally turned away from the fireworks and put her hand to his face. "Then let's go somewhere you can say that to me."

It took no time at all from them to retrieve her shawl and his coat. Even less time to climb back into the sleigh and lead the horses home. Their arrival surprised the boy waiting up for them and John only suffered a momentary pang of guilt at tossing the reins to him as he hurried Anna back toward the house.

But instead of the front door, Anna guided John to the side of the house. Pulling a key from her pocket, she opened a gate and guided John up the blind back stairs to the roof. They skirted the edge of a protruding gable to reach her tent on the roof and set to work quickly stoking the fire up and leaving all of the tent flaps tied closed but for a small corner to allow the air to enter the space. But once they were settled and could turn back to face one another, the intensity of their flight and the speed of their motions died away.

John's fingers slid up Anna's cheek, quivering from the cold of the evening as it mixed with his excitement, and he cupped around her heated skin to draw her toward him. Their lips met and for a moment John could feel nothing. But when her warm hands held to his neck as her own anchor, it served to banish the chill over his own skin.

The tie so carefully knotted by her father fell to the floor with the collar as Anna put the cufflinks in the pocket of his jacket. His coat thumped to the floor with the jacket and shoes in a haphazard tumble. And when the braces thumped against his hips, John finally moved his not-so-frozen fingers from her jaw to the back of her dress.

Each tie pulled away as finely as lace until the dress opened like a clamshell around her. Anna eased her arms from the sleeves that were nothing but swathes of fabric that wrapped just below her shoulders and stood still as John maneuvered the dress from her hips. When she could step back out of it, John busied himself lifting the dress to drape it back over a chair. When he faced Anna again his jaw almost dropped to his chest.

The sight of her, standing naked before him, would never fail to take his breath away. He decided that as his one coherent thought in the eternity it took for him to cross to her. Be it the first time or the second or the millionth, he would never cease to gawk at her beauty.

It was a fraction of a moment. It was an eternity. It was the blink of an eye. It was forever. It was all the time they needed for John to stand with his skin pressed flush with Anna's.

They maneuvered as they danced, in unison and with each taking a turn to guide the other. Anna's mouth found his and John gave her all his breath just to hold her closer and wrap his arms around her as if he could pull them together until they failed to separate. Her hands moved over his skin as if memorizing him and he copied her motions to seek out each place she gasped or whined or keened or whimpered or moaned so he could revisit those places. For each of them it was a tactile activity that only ceased when John broke their kiss.

A hazed look sat in Anna's eyes now and John took full advantage of it. While his hands and fingers on her skin had evoked reactions, he now sought those places hi lips would bring her pleasure. With each of stroke of his tongue or touch of his lips or nip of his teeth, Anna strode further and further to the edge John guided her toward as if they were still dancing.

His hands stroked over her thighs, following the tremor in her muscles to open her for his body to the adoration of his mouth of her skin. As he journeyed back up from her other ankle, soothing her with murmured words to match the whimpered sounds from Anna. John's fingers ran over her skin, tracing the shivers when he ran closer and closer to where she practically glowed.

When his breathed over her, Anna's hand flailed to grab at John. He caught her hand, kissing over it as he raised himself over her to meet her lips. She pulled at him, her fingers digging into the skin of his cheeks and jaw to hold him in place as her tongue swept his mouth. But he followed each breadcrumb she left him until Anna pulled back.

Their eyes met, her fingers continually stroking over his face, and John almost did not hear what she said. He leaned closer to her, their bodies shivering and undulating against one another as they tried to find their pleasure while keeping the tension to a point that would not break them. Her fingers on his jaw and neck, digging into his hair, allowed her breath to tickle his ear as she whispered to him again.

"I've never done that before."

"I know." John kissed just below her ear, coming back to her mouth, stroking her hair away from her forehead. "Trust me."

"I do." Anna kissed him again, the violence of it almost knocking their teeth together. "Just show me."

John glided over her body, his shoulders situated between her legs, and dragged his tongue from the edges of her folds to her clit. She twitched under him but John put a hand on her thigh to shift her leg higher so he could slip his tongue between her folds to delve more deeply. His fingers slipped and skittered over her while his tongue tried to taste every bit of her until John found himself in a perpetuating cycle of him chasing her pleasure while giving it to himself until she gushed around his lips.

Anna's fingers dug crescents into his scalp while also clutching at the bedclothes under her. John only caught a glimpse of her whitened knuckles to give him an idea of the knuckles now trying to control his head through her crushing grip on his hair. The kind of grip that allowed John to use his fingers to open her so his tongue could find her again. So he could chase her taste again. So he could then use his fingers stretch her and find that spot inside her that made her almost shriek while his mouth took its pleasure sucking and pulling at her clit.

She came again, her whole body sagging into his hold as John drew his fingers slowly from her still clutching muscles. He kissed over her, using his tongue and lips to try and settle her twitching body to a settled state. A state he was sure, as John continued his motions up her body to tease at her breasts, she might never find. But he persisted as he noted the red blush over her skin that further heated his skin.

They settled, John between Anna's legs, and he waited for her hips to nudge toward his abdomen. His hand on her thigh opened her so he could slip between her folds. Between the two of them, they slipped and slid until John settled as deeply inside her as he could go. John held there, his hands meeting with hers to drag them above her head.

Their fingers intertwined and John thrust forward. Anna's hips rose, her legs wrapping around his hips, and met him thrust for thrust. Her back arched and John dragged his teeth over her exposed neck with each drive of his hips. Over the chill of the night John only followed the snap of their hips as skin met skin. Each move of their hips filled his ears with the sounds of their wet thrusts until he could no longer comprehend anything beyond them.

They were all that mattered.

With his hand holding both of her wrists, John used his other hand to drag over her clit. Anna bucked and gasped under him, her ankles locking around his hips as one of her hands slipped free. The hand she used to hold his ass as each thrust brought them closer and closer to the edge. An edge John fell over first and held himself just there to make sure Anna joined him.

He almost collapsed on her but managed to slide himself far enough back that his forehead could rest on her abdomen while his arms wrapped around her. Anna's hands slipped and slid over his shoulders, keeping him close until they both turned to their sides. With a shuffle and a shift, John landed on his back while Anna turned onto her stomach.

"I think that was much better done in private than in public."

John only laughed, huffing out to try and fill his lungs before turning back onto his side. He supported his head on one hand, the other drawn to her back, and smiled at her. "Much better done in private."

Anna let her eyes close, the smile pulling at the corners of them, and pulled her hair to the side. John traced over her back, whirling and whirling from her shoulders to her ass before dipping over the skin to watch her shiver. Her face ran between a few emotions as John continued until Anna stopped his hand.

He flicked his eyes to her face and met her smile. "What?"

"Are you coming to Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

"Where else would I be?" John kissed her shoulder, letting his fingers move back over her back. "This is a magical time of year."

"Yes it is." Anna sighed, slipping over to kiss under his chin. "And this was the best gift anyone could give me."

"Then I gave you the gift too early since this wasn't the first time."

"It was for what you did with your mouth… twice."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." John paused, "Unless you didn't enjoy it."

"I enjoyed it very much." Anna bit into the skin of his neck and John quivered. "And I'd like to try it again some time."

"Perhaps…" John bit at his lip, fingers gliding over her ass to slide back between her folds. When she gasped, John almost leered at her. "I could do it after you accompany me to the New Year's Eve Ball."

"You want to go to another Ball with me?" Anna shifted her legs open more so John's fingers dove deeper to allow him to open her further. "Are you sure you should risk it after what happened tonight?"

"I'd like to." John slipped himself behind her, pausing as he leaned over on his knees. "Are you alright?"

"I'm better than alright." Anna pushed herself up, wrapping herself back toward him with a hand on his neck to hold him still as she took charge of his mouth. "And I'd like to see where you can take me."

"Back to the edge of pleasure if I can." John placed his hands on her hips to bring her closer to him as he plunged forward in one thrust. "If you'd like."

Anna could only rest her head back on his shoulder and dig her fingers deeper into his neck as he shifted into her. He thrust steadily, keeping her in place with his hands at her hips before risking one higher up to knead at her breasts. She sobbed, her lungs filling and emptying so quickly her chest almost caved under him.

John tipped them forward, holding Anna under her hands held herself up and he shifted onto his knees. The leverage allowed him to drive deeper, to send them both higher, and bring Anna over the edge between his fingers and the kisses he laid over her back. When she came, sobbing and crying out so loud that the corner of John's mind told him could reveal their activities to the neighborhood, John was not a pace behind her.

He moved them onto their sides, Anna tucked close to his chest as their breathing settled, and stroked through her hair. She ran her hand down his arm to interlace their fingers while pulling his arm around her. They breathed together, bodies cooling under the steady beat of the chill wafting in through the gap in the tent flap.

"Yes."

John frowned, tipping his head toward Anna as she half-turned to face him. "What?"

"Yes." She ran a finger under his chin. "I'd love to go to the New Year's Eve Ball with you. If you'll still have me."

"I'd be a fool not to have you." John hugged her closer, "If I can, I'll keep you forever."


	12. Overwhelming Ecstasy

Thomas ticked his fingers against the table and dragged a hand across the back of his neck. He blinked at the perspiration there and jumped when a voice broke through his confusion. "I'm sure it's been a long time since you sweated in worry."

He swallowed, shifting his chair back from table as O'Brien sat down. "It's been awhile since my body responded to anything at all."

"I've got a feeling it's something significant if you had that reaction."

"It's… serious." Thomas cleared his throat, "She didn't drink it."

"Why not?"

"Because he drank it."

"Excuse me?" Thomas and O'Brien startled enough to almost topple the table as Vera joined them. "How did _he_ drink it?"

"She gave him the glass to calm some nerves." Thomas snorted, "Humans and their worries I guess."

"Don't think trying to use humor will make this situation better." Vera's nails lengthened and she lunged forward to latch them into his hand. Thomas twitched and squeaked as the nails sunk into his hand. "You've cocked it all up."

"I gave it to her, like you said. I put it in her glass and she's the one who gave it to him. That's not on me." Thomas tried to pull away but Vera's fingers dug deeper into his skin. "I did my part and we're all paid up."

"I think not." Vera's claw-like nails raked over his skin. "The deal was for her to drink it, not for you to just give it to her."

"Then you've forgotten what got your boss tossed from Heaven in the first place." Thomas wrenched his hand back, holding the bleeding appendage to him as he examined the deep cuts there. "She had her agency and she used it, end of story."

"Not your end of the story."

"Yes, it is." Thomas pushed back from the table. "Do what you will to me, Vera, but I've done my part. The rest of it's on you."

"What if I owed you a favor instead?" Vera stood as well, leaning over the table to face Thomas as he wrapped a bandage around his hand. "Call it a reversal of fortune."

"What favor could you possibly owe me?" Thomas held his hand to his chest, fingers trembling. "The only thing I wanted from you was already taken from me."

"Humans are so fragile." Vera shrugged, "I did feel for poor James. Taken so young by such a nasty disease."

Thomas paled, "It was you, wasn't it? That deal we made wasn't a deal at all. You knew what would happen, or you did it yourself, and…"

"And you fell for it, like the weak, gullible man you are." Vera rounded the table and thrust another vial into his hand. "Now I've been patient with you and your sniveling but I won't be patient again. Make sure she drinks it this time or you'll find yourself losing more than the skin of your hand."

"You think I'll help you now?" Thomas went to throw the vial, Vera moving to stop him, but it was O'Brien's hand that caught Thomas's wrist. He blinked at her, confused, but she faced Vera.

"Put it on me. If he fails then you take it out on me."

Vera snorted, a guffaw taking over for a moment as her grating cackle ground at everyone's ears and shrieked like nails on glass. "You think this act of mercy impressive do you?"

"No." O'Brien swallowed, facing Thomas. "But it might impress him."

Thomas took a deep breath, his fingers curling tightly around the vial in his hand before stashing it away inside his coat. "I'll do it."

"Good." Vera moved like lightning, putting her hands on either side of O'Brien's face and wrenched sideways. Her neck cracked and O'Brien fell to the ground. Thomas gaped, practically screaming as he tried to step back but Vera's hand caught in the lapel of his coat and held him close to her so her hissing reached his ears. "Let that be on your conscience and don't cock this up again."

She released him and Thomas staggered back, stumbling to catch himself on a wall as Vera stepped over O'Brien's body. He pointed with his wrecked and bleeding hand at her. "You're a monster."

"What did you expect from the woman who works for the devil?" Vera pointed at him. "I expect it done. No more of these delays or you'll find yourself in worse trouble."

"What if I don't do it?"

"Then I've got an eternity to find you and you've got an eternity to try and hide from me." Vera's mouth moved into a fanged sneer. "How long do you think you can run from me, fallen angel? How long could you last with the Devil nipping at your heels?"

She walked away, her cackle grating along Thomas's spine as he sunk to the ground, hand aching and eyes unwavering from the sight of O'Brien's body.

* * *

Anna blinked, the grey light at the edges of the tent rousing her with gentle fingers. Not unlike the fingers holding around her hip. She grinned into her pillow and stretched her body as slowly as possible so as not to disturb the sleeping man behind her.

With her legs unfurled, her body pulling at muscles enjoying vigorous attention, and the simple sheet drifting down her body, Anna rotated to face John. He lay on his side, face half covered in a pillow, and the rise and fall of his chest matching the slow flutter of his eyelids.

She risked a hand forward, brushing down his chest as she caressed the muscles half-hidden by hair. Hair she flexed her fingers in as she traced the details and dips of his skin. Anna lifted her head, watching the flickers of emotion on his face and smiled to herself.

"You are a beautiful man." She whispered but he made no response.

Leaning forward, her hand on his chest acting as her anchor, Anna kissed at his sternum. John shuffled and Anna froze, afraid she woke him with her attentions. But he only shuffled sideways to roll onto his back, his head tipping away from her to find a cooler side to the pillow. Breathing a sigh of relief, Anna continued.

Her fingers, as gentle on his skin as they could be on the ivory keys she relished playing, roved over him. In their encounters he spent so much time on her, adoring every inch of her skin until she practically burned, and now she could take her time to appreciate him. To truly know him on her own without the overwhelming sensations of his attentions on her body overtaking her brain as they had in their past encounters.

Anna risked a kiss to his neck but John only grumbled something incoherent in his sleep. She did it again, growing bolder the more he failed to react and the lower down his body she could go. The sheets and blankets he wrapped around him bunched and pushed farther and farther until Anna encountered something. She froze, worried her attentions might have gone too far, but could only shiver when she realized what she found.

"What dreams are you having John?" She murmured, kissing at his tightening abdomen when she flung the blankets to his ankles. "I do hope they're about me."

The hint of cold air, aerating the room through the flap they kept open the night before, pimpled John's skin but his arousal still rose proudly. And when Anna's fingers danced over it, like the whisper of the wind itself, Anna wondered if she could make it stand more proudly. Given her literary education she was sure that the tools at her disposal would be more than sufficient to give him even a taste of what he gave her.

And so she embarked on it.

Her fingers moved up and down, experimenting with grips and holds and squeezes that tightened John's abdomen and had his fingers flexing in the sheet under him. His brow furrowed when her weight settled on his legs but Anna moved off him quickly to take a better position. One that allowed her core to rest on his abdomen and use the flex of his muscles to tease where he enjoyed using his fingers… and brought a grin to her face.

But she could spare no fingers of her own to ease the rolling ache that rocked through her with each grunt and guttural sound coming from John. She was far too busy stroking along him, enjoying the thickening of his skin under hers, and rolling his sack between her swift fingers. But soon that was not enough for her and the temptation rose too high to ignore. Instead of tamping it down, Anna allowed it to take over and laid a kiss on his head.

John's body stretched like a piano string under her and Anna dug her knees into his side to hold herself steady. The motion slipped her lips over him and she inhaled almost on instinct. It drove John's erection into her mouth and Anna finally tasted him as he had her. And her groan around him only drove him fully awake.

His hand landed on her hips and Anna cried out when his other hand stroked along her exposed seam. She could not risk looking at him, occupied as she was with sucking down on him, but she imagined his barely contained expression. The image of him, trying to control himself as she had so many times under his attentions, drove her to take more of him into her mouth and squeeze his sack in her other hand.

When her tongue licked and dipped into his slit, diving for a better taste, John's fingers drove inside her. Anna arched up, losing her hold on him to cry out at the pleasure of his caress against her. The wet, slick sounds of his fingers driving into her had her nails digging into his hips while she attempted to lower herself for another taste at him.

But John's hand at her hip stopped her, wrapping up her body as he sat up to hold her close to his chest. He never said a word as he shifted them sideways so his feet hit the floor and hers draped over his. All he did was urge her back, fingers leaving her to hold her thigh back and open her to him while his hand mapped her stomach to her breasts. When he kneaded at her skin, Anna rose up and then sheathed herself on him.

Each new position, each quivering sensation, and each gentle rock of his hips against hers to seat himself as deeply as he could reach inside her, sent Anna into paroxysms of pleasure. She reached an arm back, holding at his neck to provide an anchor as she rose up on her knees to better position herself. He slid out of her, resting only the very tip inside her folds as Anna maneuvered her position.

As she found it she sank down, taking him in one smooth stroke until he could go no further and she held him tightly to her. Both of them groaned, the sound vibrating through their skin to leave both almost giddy with the tickling sensation that raked over raw nerves. Nerves Anna moved John's unoccupied hand to excite while her fingers dug into his hair.

She did not look at him, sure if she did that would be the end for her and she did not want that. Not yet. Instead she looked down and realized it accomplished the same goal. Her body writhed against his, the two of them moving together, and his hands sculpted over her. With his fingers drawing and pinching and stroking along her clit or her breast, Anna had to shut her eyes to try and focus. But all she could see there were his motions.

Forcing her eyes open, Anna turned her head to finally meet John's eyes. They were clouded, the hints of sleep at the edges wearing thin with each passing moment the darkening of them increased. Their lips stayed apart, losing themselves instead in the depths of the souls visible in their eyes. And when Anna gyrated her hips, giving over from the bobbing and the slight bounce her knees now burned too much to continue, John's eyes rolled back into his head and he came.

His climax warned Anna to hers, his strong grip on her hip holding her in place as he thrust with abandon into her and continued working her clit. The dedicated drive of him tossed Anna over the edge and she buried her cry of pleasure in John's mouth as her hand left his hair long enough to force his cheek to turn to her. They tangled tongues and melded breathing as Anna's other hand found where John's had played her to completion.

With a focused effort, Anna guided his fingers to her again so she could extend her own high. A high John helped roll out again with a smaller, gentler climax. It took the last of John's stuttering motions and rolled them onward until they sagged back onto the bed.

Draped as they were, perpendicular to the headboard with Anna still on John's chest, Anna could see the sky peeking its golden light into her tent. With all her remaining energy, Anna rolled off John to lay on the rumpled sheets and try to breathe. With her focus on just forcing her chest to rise she almost missed John's voice.

"What?" Anna turned, her hair falling into her eyes and forcing her to move it over a shoulder. "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Anna frowned, "It wasn't nothing."

John smiled at her, bringing a hand to her face so his thumb could trace her cheekbone. "I just said… Merry Christmas."

"A very merry one." Anna kissed him again, her hand framing his face to hold him close to her so she could taste all of him. When she pulled back, once again struggling to breathe, she could only sigh in contentment. "You make me so happy John."

"And you make me happy beyond measure." John let his hand dropped from her face, tracing his fingers along her arm. "You're the best gift I've ever received."

"And you're mine." Anna stroked a bit of hair back from his forehead. "What were you dreaming about?"

"You."

"Truly?"

"Truly." John smiled at her, "You're all I'll ever dream about ever again."

"I very much like the sound of that." Anna leaned over him, taking her breath away with his in their kiss.

* * *

Anna straightened John's tie, barely suppressing a grin as John held his chin higher. "If you don't stop that you'll make me knot my own fingers in this."

"Then you won't be able to get away." John teased, eyes darting about before sneaking a kiss. He pulled away quickly, mindful of the color on her lips. "And I'd rather like keeping you close."

"I rather like being close to you as well." Anna pulled the bows even and nodded at him. "You're fighting fit."

"Thank you." John pulled his arms out from his body, turning to thoroughly examine himself. "I'm surprised there are so few wrinkles."

"Because they spent so many hours on my floor?" Anna teased in her whisper but John could not respond as Gwen and Mr. Smith descended the stairs.

'Later' he mouthed and Anna feigned being frightened.

"Promises, promises." She whispered and John clenched his jaw to try and force the flow of his blood in another direction.

"Are we all ready to disembark?" Mr. Smith frowned. "Or embark? I guess it's all about perspective."

"Yes it is sir." John extended his arm toward Gwen, "If I could accompany the young lady to the sleigh?"

"Yes you can." Gwen wrapped her hand around John's arm, turning to address Anna. "If the other lady doesn't mind."

"I think I'll take Father as my escort." Anna helped her father into his coat and then slipped her arm through his, her loose shawl draped over her shoulders. "He's a rather dashing man."

"That I am." Mr. Smith pointed at John, helping Gwen into her cloak. "Although I concede he wears my old clothes better than I could."

"I'm still grateful for the loan." John took his own coat and held the door for the parade before hurrying to help Gwen and then Anna into the sleigh.

"Better than left to mothballs." Mr. Smith took his seat. "Don't you think?"

"I do." Anna smiled at John, unable to respond with Mr. Smith looking in his direction. "Mr. Bates looks rather dashing."

"He's like a prince." Gwen leaned toward John, tucking the other blanket around their legs. "One who could kiss a fairy princess to wake her from death."

"What's that?" Anna frowned but John shook his head. "Alright, keep your secrets."

"We've all got to have some or else life isn't interesting." Mr. Smith shook his head, "If it weren't for tramping through all this snow I'd suggest we just walk our way to the Crawley's since the road takes twice as long."

"It keeps us in one another's company for a bit longer." Anna's words warmed John from the inside out until the blanket that kept him warm roasted him. "And that's never a shame."

True to Mr. Smith's words the journey to the Crawley's did take twice as long with the sleigh but they arrived in time to hear the excitement from Rosamund, Robert, and James as they dashed about with their toys. Rosamund spun in her Christmas dress while Gwen tried to outdo the boys in their lists of presents. Greetings exchanged, discussions of gifts and well-wishes passed about, and the declaration of dinner given, John accompanied Anna and the rest into the dining room.

Lights sparkled. Between the candles on the table and the electric lights above them, the room gained an ambient glow brighter and more joyful than most rooms John ever set foot in. For a moment he could see the room like all those he had entered without the knowledge of their owners.

It would be dark, the table unclothed and the chairs tighter to the wood. The candlesticks would be bare and easily managed into the sack. The frames for portraits and photographs would vanish, if they were small and valuable, while little utensils and sparkling silver that only glowed dully without light to reflect joined them. In total John knew he could strip this room of the finery in less than ten minutes and leave it nothing but a husk of its former opulence.

But as he enjoyed the laughter, the smiles, and the joy effervescing from those around him, John realized the wealth of the room paled in comparison to his companions. Separated as they were by birth, education, and upbringing they shared much in common with the River People who raised him. They expressed their gratitude for what life was generous enough to give them and gave generously in return. They laughed, lived, and loved like anyone else… just dressed a bit finer than anyone else.

Anna's finger came to his eye before John even realized he shed a tear. He turned to her, her gloved hand bringing warmth to his cheek as she smiled at him and wiped another tear with her thumb. "I do hope these are happy tears John."

"Very happy." John took her hand, heedless of those about him, and kissed her knuckles before returning it to her lap. "I've just realized something."

"What?"

"That those things I want most I could never buy." John squeezed her hand, releasing it to return to his food. "That you've brought me such joy and happiness I can barely contain it."

"You do the same for me."

"I don't want to do anything else for the rest of my life."

"I want that too."

Anna turned back to her food, leaving John speechless, and spent the rest of dinner and the evening sneaking smiles to him. Even when they returned to the sleigh and back into her home it was all John could think about: how to bring her ultimate happiness. And he even lost three games of chess to Mr. Smith in short order with a smile on his face knowing she wanted his attentions.

As he went toward bed Mr. Smith called him back. He pointed back to John's chair and steepled his fingers with his elbows positioned on the arms of his chair. "Mr. Bates, do you love my daughter?"

"Yes sir."

"If you could, would you marry her?"

"In a heartbeat sir."

"And her money?"

John frowned, "What of it?"

"Does it mean nothing to you?"

"What should it mean to me?"

Mr. Smith smiled, "Nothing at all."

John coughed, "Then please excuse me but I'm very confused."

"Mr. Bates," Mr. Smith took a breath, dropping his hands. "I'm not a fool and I know that my daughter has her own mind. A mind that might be inclined to break the rules that I extend over this house."

John swallowed, a constriction in his chest forcing his heart to beat faster. "Sir, I can explain. It's-"

"It's not something I want explained." Mr. Smith stood, pulling at his waistcoat. "If you love my daughter then you've given her something I could never have hoped she'd have in her short life. For the time she has left, I'd like her to share it with you. It makes her happier than I've ever seen her and there's nothing more a father could ask for his children."

"I promise sir," John hurried to stand as well, rubbing his palms over his trousers. "I want for nothing but her happiness."

"Then you've my blessing, in whatever capacity she'll have you." Mr. Smith put a hand on John's shoulder, his eyes tearing. "If only you knew of a way to cure her."

"I'd spend my life trying to find one."

"Spend your life with her instead and that'll be better for you both." Mr. Smith took a breath. "I'm off to bed. Try not to be too loud."

John ducked his head, reddening all the way to the roots of his hair. "Yes sir."

When he heard the door shut, John hurried up the stairs to Anna's tent. She sat on her bed, reading with a furrowed brow. A furrow that disappeared at the sight of John.

And like that morning, they did not speak. John stripped himself and then her, kissing and caressing her skin until she relaxed under him. He then set his fingers and tongue and lips and hands to bringing her over the edge. Each time she rose to it her voice went higher until Anna almost begged him to stop. But when he went to obey her commands she pulled him back to her.

Her legs wrapped his hips and John pushed forward. They moved together, John obeying the half-spoken commands she stuttered out between twists and raises of her hips to meet him, until Anna tumbled over the edge again. Then John paused, watching the ecstasy flood her face again.

He lost himself then. Lost himself in kissing her until all he could taste was her and all he breathed was Anna. Lost himself in the steady of thrust of his hips into hers and the sounds they made together as their bodies joined. Lost himself in the scent of her perfume, his cologne, and the fragrance of their joining. Lost himself in the dips and valleys and of her skin under his fingers and her equally exploratory touches. Lost himself in the sound of them joining together and the breathing moans she let out when she crested yet again… This time taking him with her.

They lay together afterward, wrapped as much in one another as they were in the bedclothes. John stroked through Anna's hair as she traced nonsense symbols over his chest. The tilt of her head drew his attention and John smiled down at her.

"I'll love you to the end of my days."

"And I'll love you to the end of mine." Anna kissed him, pulling him closer for another expression of their devotion.


	13. Worse for Wear

Anna pulled herself free of John's touches and kisses, mumbling against his mouth. "I need a bath."

"Not yet," He groaned and she tugged free.

"You could join me." She gave him a wicked grin that twitched the sheets as she tied her dressing gown about her waist. "Now that my father's approved we don't have to be so careful."

"I don't want to flaunt his generosity."

"It's early. And it's New Year's Eve." Anna tugged his hand. "Come with me."

John groaned but followed her, shivering the moment he flipped the blankets back. Anna laughed as he danced from one foot to another before pulling his dressing gown around his body. "You can laugh. You're always hotter than a furnace."

"It's not a desirable trait." Anna chewed the inside of her cheek and John's face fell immediately.

"I'm so sorry Anna. I didn't mean-"

"I know." Anna put her hands on either side of his face, smiling at him. "We've not got the time to worry over the small things when I've so little of it to spend. I'd rather spend it with you, being happy."

"Then," John dipped and lifted Anna, squealing, into his arms. "Let's be happy together."

She clung to his neck, her dressing gown falling off one leg as John reached the bottom of the stairs. With a finger she pointed and then put it over his lips when he went to speak, shushing him. Giggling together in half-stopped whispers, they entered the room Anna indicated and John's mouth dropped open.

"What is this?"

"It's the hydroelectric system for the house." Anna pointed to the glass bottom in the room. "Father installed it to take snow and rain from the roof and store it here. It recycles the water from our baths as well, after cleaning it, to turn the wheels and power the house."

"And you bathe here?"

"It's the only water in the house not heated." Anna wiggled free of John's hold, dropping to her feet and untying her dressing gown to hang it on a hook before jumping into the water.

It splashed back, hitting John's legs and feet. He hurried back, teeth gritted as he hissed at the water. "It's freezing!"

"Then I guess you'll have to help me warm it up." Anna treaded water to the middle of the large tub, winking at him. "Aren't you coming?"

John made a face, flexing his jaw wide before he shed his dressing gown to hang next to hers. He rubbed his hands together and edged into the frigid water, shivering and seizing until he swam out toward her. His breath fogged and fingers tinged blue as Anna wrapped them in her hands.

"How long do you need?" His teeth chattered and Anna wrapped herself around him, holding his close to try and pass the heat of her fever to him.

"Not long." She rubbed her hands over his back.

The rippling of his muscles under her touches had Anna holding him more tightly, adding her lips to his cold skin. With each pass of her lips or her hands or the flush of her body against his, the shivering eased until it vanished. Anna trailed her lips over his cheek toward his lips but stopped just short.

She gazed at his face, tracing her wet fingers over him so little rivulets ran down his cheeks, and waited. His hands gripped around her waist and at her ass. Anna pressed closer and gasped when John's mouth closed over hers, their tongues immediately clashing before their teeth clacked together

Floundering together for a moment, John worked them back toward the wall of the large reservoir and did not stop until Anna's back touched it. She gasped out, the air rushing from her lungs, and John paused until she could finally take deep breaths again. When she did, Anna surged forward and took over their kiss until John's body almost crushed hers back to the wall in his eagerness to respond to her vigor.

They slipped and slid over one another in the water, frictionless and yet not slick enough to move with ease. Anna pushed with her shoulders, gliding herself over his rising erection to try and add pressure. But John's movements still hampered in the chill waters so Anna dropped her hand between them. Her uncompromising grip brought him to life and John lurched his hips forward to thrust into her grip.

His own fingers, trembling with cold, delved between her folds and encouraged Anna to come to the edge with him. An edge that had her wrapping her legs around his waist. An edge that she squeezed tighter to help him reach. An edge that their mouths maneuvered them ever closer toward until John finally thrust into her heat. The only enduring heat in the cool water.

Again the water hampered and helped them. With her position in the water, Anna leveraged herself with ease to slide up and down, bouncing in the water to throw ripples away from them. But the water made it difficult to hold and entice, to curl and excite. Between their determination and ingenuity they found a way. A way that sent Anna digging her nails into John's shoulders as he bit down on her shoulder.

They only allowed a minute to recover before Anna urged them toward the edge of the pool. She climbed out and hurried to where the towels waited as John struggled but eventually got himself onto the edge. Anna wrapped a towel about him, helping him away from the water and rubbing him down as quickly as she could to warm his muscles and limbs.

When the tips of his fingers gained a bit more color she relaxed and entered his arms as he sat back against the wall. She snuggled close to him, spreading her legs on either side of his to rest her head on his shoulder as John wrapped the towel around them. They breathed together, the heat from Anna's body bringing John back from the brink of hypothermia with each inhale that raised her on his chest.

She grinned to herself when she recognized that it raised something else. Something she could not stop herself investigating as her hand skated down his chest to reach. And John's hips bucking toward her when her fingers grazed over him had Anna stretching to sit closer to him.

"Ready so soon?" She teased but his lips at her neck made her gasp.

"You've thoroughly warmed me up."

The towel dropped to the side, a rumpled heap forgotten by them as Anna tipped her hips to rub over him and held herself back from his reach with a hand clamped around his neck. John held her in place with his hands on her hips and attempted to urge her forward but Anna dug in her heels, keeping herself back so only her folds ran over him.

"You've become an impossible tease." John tipped his chest forward, adopting an awkward lean that put her breasts within reach of his mouth. "What monster did I create?"

"Don't take all the credit." Anna cried out when his lips closed over her breast, soulfully sucking at her nipple. "I'm well read."

"Obviously." John moved to the other side and surprised Anna when his finger traced over her as she continued her teasing. "But you're still a tease."

"I'm just trying to catch up." Anna put her feet flat and pushed up to surprise John when she sheathed him in a second. "Now I think we need to finish."

John heeded her words and pulled her toward him to strike to her very depths as he bottomed out. In that moment Anna's eyes rolled back into her head and all she could perceive were the sensations. John's hands roving her burning skin until she was sure she could combust there in the cold room. His lips still paying their venerated affection to her breasts. And his length striking deep and hard inside her until all she could do was surrender to the tide that dragged her sobbing over the edge.

He finished shortly after, clutching her close to feel every final spasm in his body as they settled. When his skin pimpled in the cold Anna pulled back, stretching slowly as they both hissed with sensitivity. She handed him another towel before slipping back into the water. John's confusion frowned over his face but Anna just laughed as she pushed deeper into the water.

"I'm still too hot and I need to cool down." She pointed at him, her other arm and legs treading water. "You're not very good at keeping me cold."

"I said I wanted to help you melt all the snow in the world."

"Another time." Anna waved him off. "You'd best sneak off to your room so you can still pretend we believe in propriety."

"Yes ma'am." John winked at her, wrapping himself in his dressing gown and taking the sopping towels with him. "I'll see you at breakfast."

He left the room and Anna pushed herself to lay back in the water, floating there with her arms spread from her body. The heat fought the chill of the water but soon her temperature dropped and Anna relaxed. She endured the chill water until her body could take no more and then swam back to the edge of the pool.

For a moment she sat there, letting her breath fog in the air, and laughed at it. Anna pushed herself to her feet, taking a towel to dry off, and then put on her dressing gown. As she exited the room, the damp towel hanging from her hand, she almost ran into Gwen.

"Good morning." Anna smiled at her, nodding toward Gwen's room. "Shouldn't you be sleeping a bit more if you want to ring in the New Year with us?"

"I couldn't stay asleep." Gwen pointed down the hall. "Has John asked you to marry him yet?"

"No." Anna laughed, walking toward the stairs leading to her tent, Gwen coming with her after she grabbed a coat hanging from the series of hooks there. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought that's what people in love do."

"Perhaps other people in love do that." Anna sighed, shrugging at Gwen's shock. "You and I both know that I don't have time like other people do."

"But you could get married like other people do." Gwen urged, holding her coat tighter around herself as Anna pulled her clothes from her wardrobe. "That way you'll be bound together forever."

"Maybe it works that way for other people but we're all connected anyway." Anna pulled her clothing tight, turning for Gwen to help her. "And I believe there are some of us who are connected by something deeper than the strings of this world."

"Like your souls are connected?"

"Yes." Anna took a deep breath and nodded as Gwen tightened the laces. "Do you remember what I've said about light?"

"How it's in everything?"

"Exactly." Anna smiled to herself, "I think light's in all of us and sometimes are light is just meant for someone else. You give it to them and they are yours forever."

"And you've given your light to John?"

"As much as I've ever given any light to anyone." Anna breathed out as Gwen knotted the laces at the bottom of the corset. "And I think he's given me his light."

"Do you ever get it back?"

"No."

"What if you give someone your light and they don't give you theirs in return?"

Anna shrugged, "That's the risk you take when you love someone. That they'll not love you back."

"Does that hurt?"

"I'd think so but I don't know." Anna smiled at her, kissing Gwen's forehead, "The first person I loved loves me."

"That's why he'll save you with True Love's kiss." Gwen hopped away, leaving Anna's brow furrowed. "I told him how. He just has to do it."

* * *

John laughed as he finally showed Anna the bowtie. "Yes?"

"How often have you practiced that since the Christmas Eve Ball?" Anna pulled one side and then patted it flat.

"Often enough that I could impress you by doing it up myself." He waited, snatching her hands to pull her close. "Did it work?"

"You already impressed me Mr. Bates." Anna leaned forward and John tipped down to kiss her. "And I'm excited to dance with you again."

"Me too." John released her hands, jamming his into his pockets and looking at the floor a moment. "Did Gwen tell you she spoke to me this afternoon?"

Anna scowled, her lips pursing. "If she said anything about marriage-"

"That's the thing…" John pulled his hand out of his pocket and took a knee.

Anna covered her mouth with both of her gloved hands as John held up the ring. Her head shook back and forth and John coughed before he cleared his throat to finally speak. "Anna Smith, will you marry me?"

"What?"

"I want to do this right. Not only because your little sister is convinced it's the only way to connect our souls together but also because I want to do right by you." John met Anna's eyes, not moving from his position. "I'm not ignorant of your condition, just as you're not ignorant of mine, and I know this invites heartache for both of us in one way or another but I love you and I won't let anything get in the way of that."

"John," Anna dropped to her knees with him, clasping her hands over his. "I can't say anything but yes."

He slipped the ring over her finger, stopping when it caught on the fabric of her glove. They both laughed, pulling her glove off to expose her fingers and allow the ring to slide down to rest perfectly there. She stopped, her mouth opening at the ring there.

"This is-"

"Your mother's ring." John helped them both to stand. "Your father gave it to me this afternoon when I asked him for your hand."

"You asked him?"

"Of course. I wanted to do this right." John bit his lip. "I don't have a home to offer you, I don't have a steady job, I can't guarantee your safety but I will do everything I can to make you happy Anna. Please trust that I will."

"I wouldn't have said 'yes' if I thought anything else." Anna ran her hand down his face, the cool metal already heating at the proximity to Anna's fevered skin. "You are the best thing I could ever hope to have in the world John Bates."

"And you're more than I could ever have dreamed to have." John kissed her hand, near the ring, and then jumped at the excited giggle from Gwen as the girl pelted down the stairs toward them.

"I knew he'd ask you. I just knew he'd have to ask you." She almost toppled Anna as she latched around her waist and bounced up and down in her excitement. "It's like a fairytale."

"It is, isn't it?" Anna hugged Gwen to her, extending a hand to hold John's. "But if we don't leave now we'll be late."

They bundled up, Mr. Smith joining them to offer his congratulations and lead Gwen away from the couple as they climbed into the sleigh. Even with the Christmas Eve Ball just the week before, the room was full to bursting. So full that Mr. Smith ordered Anna to the terrace the moment they entered the hall.

John escorted her there, bearing it until his shivering had Anna dragging him back to the table. A table now almost entirely populated by Crawleys. They all cooed at Anna's ring, passed their compliments as Anna's arm stayed wrapped around John's to keep him close, and eventually turned the topic to their New Year's resolutions. In the rush of noise John leaned toward Anna, his hand resting over hers, and whispered in her ear.

"Would you like to dance?"

"On the terrace or Father'll be furious."

"Best we not anger him before the year's even begun."

John took Anna's other hand and helped her stand, leading her out onto the terrace as the music started. Unlike their last foray, John kept his head clear. The chill of the night put him on edge but soon they worked up a sweat between them as one song bled into another and they continued dancing. It was not until someone tapped John's shoulder that they even noticed they were missing more of the excitement indoors.

"Mr. Smith asked that I tell you they're serving drinks for the demanded toasts." The familiar man from a week before handed both of them a glass and John took his with a nod.

"You're Thomas, right? The one who was so generous with us last time?"

"I'm flattered you remember me sir." Thomas nodded at them, his eyes darting toward Anna for a moment and John caught her taking a drink from her glass from the corner of his eye. "I'm usually not much to remember."

"What happened to your hand?" Anna held her half-drunk glass in her hand, nodding towards Thomas's bandaged right hand.

"Little accident with a rather vicious cat." Thomas held his hand closer to his chest, the fingers curling inward. "It attacked much faster and ferociously than I expected."

"They're dangerous creatures." John finished his drink and took Anna's as she finished to hand them back to Thomas. "Ready to go inside darling?"

"I believe I am." She put her hand in John's, bowing her head to Thomas. "Happy New Year Thomas."

"Thank you miss." Thomas backed away, holding their glasses, and John thought he noticed a twinkle from Anna's.

Shaking it off, John led them inside to rejoin their table. Mr. Smith nodded at them and then pointed to where Gwen dozed in the chair. "The Crawleys are proposing leaving early."

"Before the fireworks?"

"They say there's been some problem with the fireworks. Damp got to them I expect or some such." Mr. Smith shook his head, "They always get overly ambitious when they're doing them for Christmas and then forget that New Year's Eve is the bigger event. There are disappointed children here."

"There are tired children here." Anna put a hand on Gwen, who could only half-heartedly argue that she was not sleeping before shifting in her chair so her face pressed against the fabric side. "Will you stay then?"

"If the Crawleys are leaving then there's no point in staying with the rest of the crowd." Mr. Smith waved a hand at those around them. "Those I do know are sycophantic suck ups with no real interest in our family and those I don't know don't like me because they believe certain things about me."

"So you're going?"

"Yes. However," Mr. Smith pointed at them. "You two could stay and enjoy the rest of the evening. The Crawleys have room in their sleigh and I could squeeze myself and Gwen in with them."

John turned to Anna, "Your decision darling."

Anna sucked the insides of her cheeks before shaking her head. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"It won't be any fun without those we know and we can dance, just the two of us, on our own porch." Anna tugged John's hand. "Come on, let's help get Gwen home."

They all loaded back into their sleigh, bidding the Crawleys goodbye when the road diverged, and sliding safely back toward the stables at the Grange. John helped Mr. Smith settle Gwen in his arms once they got the girl out of the sleigh. She settled her head on her father's shoulder, mumbling again about only resting her eyes.

"I could take her up to her room. It'd be no trouble sir." John offered again but Mr. Smith shook his head.

"No, I've got her. Besides, who knows how much longer I can do this before she becomes too heavy, I get too old, or she believes it's too childish." Mr. Smith snorted his laugh, trudging through the snow with Gwen in his arms. "Allow a father his little happinesses."

"Goodnight Father." Anna called, holding onto John's arm. "Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year Anna." Mr. Smith turned at the door and nodded at John. "And Happy New Year to you John."

"Happy New Year to you sir." John raised a hand and then huffed out as the door closed. Turning to Anna as he took her in dancing pose, "So, Ms. Smith, would you like to dance until New Year?"

"No." Anna bit her lip and nodding toward the roof. "I think there are other things we could do better with our time."

John could only grin and allow Anna to lead him through the house. They reached her tent and he went to hold her but Anna put a hand to his chest and shook her head. He frowned but Anna put her hands on his cheeks to thoroughly kiss him before she stepped back.

She pulled her hair loose, letting it bounce and glow over her shoulders before she slipped her shoes to the side. Anna sat on the edge of her bed and used her foot on John's chest to stop him when he tried to get closer to her. The little shake of her head kept him back as Anna lifted her skirts to roll her stockings down her legs and let them fall to the floor.

With her feet bare Anna stood. Her hands worked the clasps at the back of her dress to bring it apart like a clamshell so it could drop to her waist. She stepped free, draping it over the back of her chair before letting the sets on her corset loose as well. It thudded to the floor and John gaped when Anna pulled the last pieces of clothing free.

The surprise was so great it took Anna to divest him of his clothes. It was far less sensual than her slow strip but the end result was the same. Her breathing quickened and John's matched hers as she pushed him back onto the bed and climbed up to follow him.

But instead of allowing him to touch her, Anna positioned herself between his legs and put her hands on his erection. The experience in her grip brought John's fingers to the sheets, clutching and grasping there while Anna took her time to make him writhe and buck under her. But what almost set John off was when Anna stopped.

He raised his head to offer an argument, any argument, but she just maneuvered herself so her knees went on either side of his head. His mouth watered and then dried and watered again when Anna whispered the answer to his unspoken question. "I'm well-read."

John wasted no time in argument but set to work. He lifted his hands to hold her still and let his tongue and lips do the rest. And each of her moans brought him closer and closer to the edge but he kept himself back, determined to bring her over first. A task she made more difficult when she used her mouth instead of her hands on him.

Distracting himself with her taste, John used one hand to spread her wider so he could delve his tongue deeper, spread wider, and eventually bring her shuddering around him. He lapped at her, sucking every last drop he could before using her moment of climax to adjust their positions. But he kept her on top and only laid back to allow Anna to control the moment.

And she did. Rising up like a goddess over him, Anna sank down and took immediately control. Her motions had her bobbing up and down as she used her knees for leverage. But when John helped guide her to use the most of his driving thrusts, she twisted her hips to drive him mad. A madness she joined him in as her breathing quickened, her skin flushed, and her eyes glazed with the rise of her next orgasm.

In the distance John heard the clocks chime and drove harder, faster, with less finesse, and with his fingers holding tight to her hips so they both came with the chime on the stroke of twelve. Both paused for a second as John rose up to kiss her and whisper. "Happy New Year Anna."

"Happy New Year John." She kissed him fiercely, the kiss almost burning his lips.

When she pulled back she put a hand to her chest, furrows coming to her brow as John held her close. "Anna?"

"I…" She struggled to breathe, her chest barely rising and falling as her eyes widened in panic. "John?"

"Anna!"

"John, I-"Her eyes rolled back into her head and John caught her before she fell off him.

He held either side of her face, looking her over as her wheezing breaths barely raised her chest and her heartbeat fluttered out of control under John's hand. With a swift grab, he wrapped her in a dressing gown and managed his trousers before lifting her into his arms. Holding her close, her body shuddering and twitching as she tried to breathe, John hurried down the stairs.

Mindless of the noise, of the hour, of everything except the vague memory given him by a little girl when he first arrived, John stumbled out of the house and through the snow. His feet were numb in seconds but it hardly mattered. All that mattered was the greenhouse and the slimmest of hopes.

John knocked the door open, ignoring as it banged off the wall and broke a pane of glass. The heat almost knocked him over but he ignored it and the pain from his frozen feet heating far too quickly to reach the bed. He lay Anna on it, spreading her out with her dressing gown for cover, and stepped back for a second.

Her breaths were shallower now, blue tingeing her fingers and the edges of her mouth. John got on the edge of the bed, taking Anna's hand in his to feel the painful press of the setting on the ring dig into his skin. His other hand smoothed over her hair as he leaned close to her lips.

"Anna? Please Anna, I need you to breathe. Breathe for me." She only managed a wheezing shudder, her eyes fluttering. John bent over, kissing her as gently as he could, but as he pulled away her breathing only weakened. "Anna? Anna I can't lose you. I love you Anna and this bed's supposed to help True Love's Kiss heal you. Let it heal you. Let me love you until the end of my life. That's what I promised, that I'd love you until the end of my life."

He kissed her again but the effect was the same. All John heard, in the blistering greenhouse, was the faintest of phrases from Anna as she breathed her last. The final words from the woman he loved more than life itself.

"And I loved you until the end of mine."

And with those words Anna Smith died.


	14. Depths of Darkness

John swallowed, his eyes red but empty of tears. Tears that had soaked his face for days had finally run dry as he stared at the black mass assembled around her grave. A grave he could only see from the rear because seeing the name on the stone would make it more real than it already was. Gwen, her hand tightly clutching her father's, looked up at him and the shine in her eyes brought a racking sob from John. His eyes scrunched, the emotion rising in his chest to choke him but he had no more tears to offer.

He never had anything to give but now it was more true than before. He was empty and hollow with no more than the husk of himself to present at her grave. She had taken everything that he was with her when she died and left him bare. The person she left was not the man he was because the man he was died with her.

He truly had nothing to give for he was nothing.

He told Anna that, when he proposed with all the hopes and dreams he had. He told her he had nothing to offer her but his love and she took him all the same. To her, that was enough.

What he should have told her was all he could give was pain. Pain he thought he understood when he said he knew it was there. Pain they thought they understood when they accepted the responsibility to bear it for one another. But they lied to each other like he lied to himself.

They did not know pain. They had no way to understand it or comprehend it. They had no concept of what pain really was.

The crank of the straps as they lowered her coffin into the grave ticked in time with the beat of John's heart as he watched. He ignored the stares of those about the grave; the socialites whispering and pointing about the stranger so obviously out of place at the public event. They were as unimportant as the freezing rain that pelted umbrellas and coats, soaking John's hair to his head and leaving his chilled to the bone in the freezing wind.

The only sympathies and attentions he accepted were those offered by the Crawleys. The only people who even bothered to speak to him outside Anna's father and sister. The only other people who had any idea about how much had truly been lost when the consumptive daughter of newspaper mogul Albert Smith died. They knew Mr. Smith did not just lose his daughter… he lost a son as well.

But for all their care and affection, even that felt hollow to him. John could only describe himself with that word: hollow. A once bright world now tinged dimmer and darker in his vision because the bursting light and promise only rained gray like the clouds pouring their frigid empathy on his head.

An empathy he knew struck in direct inverse proportion to the cackling laughter of the only person happy in weather like this.

There was no way to prove it but John knew. He knew the moment Anna breathed her last. Knew it the moment Mr. Smith's soul-wrenching cry echoed in the greenhouse as he clutched the body of his dead daughter to his chest. Knew it in the scream from Gwen when he confessed her fairy bed had not saved her sister and he embraced her as she sobbed into his trousers. Knew it like he knew the sting of her hatred and the taste of her revenge.

This was all Vera's doing.

There was no way to explain it to Mr. Smith. To him it was the logical conclusion to the life of the daughter he lost when they received the first diagnosis. And Gwen need not understand. The death of her sister was enough pain for a child who did not need to know the evils of someone like Vera or that they even existed.

No, this was all John's doing and he was going to fix it.

He would find her. After that the plan was a bit hazy and uncertain but one thing was sure: either she would end or he would. There were no other options available to him now. There was no reason to find any other options.

To John, he was already dead. He died with Anna and all that remained was the body that traipsed without a soul. What was left needed only revenge to survive.

John gave his last handshake to Mr. Smith as the black-garbed crowd dispersed. He offered Gwen a final hug when the Crawleys offered their final invitations to a luncheon so the Smith family need not worry about food. He accepted the ring Gwen put on a chain around his neck and her whispered, "To keep her light close to your heart" before turning on his heel to leave.

And that was the last he ever saw of the Smith family.

He did not belong to their world. He never had and he never would. And they need not mix themselves with his business. Business that would be dark and stick to their souls like tar if they stumbled too deeply into the mire of a city that existed only in the shadows. The darkness of the underbelly where depravity and chaos and Vera reigned.

John belonged to the darkness. He once reveled in it with Vera and he took some of it into himself. He understood it and he would use it like a weapon. A weapon she forged for her own undoing for he would find her and finish her. Finish her with the darkness she let bloom in his soul when she stole all that mattered to him.

Darkness would swallow darkness and end them both… if he was lucky.

And if he lived? If he somehow managed to destroy her once and for all and finally free himself of her hold? What then?

Then he would destroy the darkness in himself. No matter how long it took or what that could mean. With determined steps John intended to tear it from himself or die trying. He hoped for the latter. He did not expect the former.

Even in a city as large as New York there was nowhere to hide. But he was not hiding anymore. No more buildings to scramble over or find the nooks and crannies to invade. No more porches to crawl under or roofs to cross to escape her.

John wanted Vera to find him and when he noticed the tails keeping eyes on him he knew it worked. He let the rain soak through him and then freeze him to the bone when it stopped so the wind could have its way with him. The snow piled up on the pavements, brown and gray with the tracks of the world soaking there, froze his feet in his borrowed shoes but what were feet to the dead? It only empowered him as he walked to the bridge.

The bridge that overlooked the burned husk of the River People's home she destroyed to find him. The bridge where he could imagine the peaked roofs of Anna's neighborhood peeking over the city as if sneaking a glance at a fancy party. The bridge that crossed the river where he once found salvation to escape the clutching claws of Vera. The bridge where he intended to make a final stand and either perish or conquer.

There was no third option.

* * *

Vera took the handful of coins and jangled them before picking up a stack to drop. They clanked and chimed off one another as she let them drop in a stream from one hand to the next. Each one landed in her secure clutch before she turned her hands to repeat the motion. It set the pace for her feet as she crossed the balcony from one side to the other and surveyed the city.

A knock on the door had her turning to see a man with hair thinning at the top of his head and a threadbare scarf slung about his neck as if he still had money to spare. Vera only snorted, shaking her head and continuing her repetitive march across the room with the coins still jangling in her hands. "He's sending you now?"

"You know his doorman's absolute shit at delivering messages."

"Does he want to see me?"

"He's hoping you'll make an appearance."

"I'm sure he phrase it just like that, Mr. Sampson." Vera dropped the coins into a dish, rattling loudly before she took her coat from the back of a chair. "Would he mind if you worked for me?"

"I'm not looking to change my employer."

"Best not." Vera followed Sampson into the hallway and down to a waiting black motor with the necromantic driver, his sown-shut lips covered by a balaclava situated up to his nose under a hat. "So the dead can drive?"

"He's the best chauffer." Sampson opened the door and offered Vera a hand but she ignored it, climbing into the back of the cab on her own. "And he's fast. Knows the ins and outs of this city like you wouldn't believe."

"I've got street scamps working for me who could do the same thing." Vera shrugged and turned to Sampson. "Why did the Judge send you? He knows I'd come if he wrote a note."

"He wanted me to warn you ahead of time that he's not pleased you used Mr. Barrow."

"The angel owed me a favor."

"And you cocked that up." Sampson smirked at her awkward shuffle. "Not that you ever could refuse a lush his beverages in sin."

"Are you angry that I didn't shag you and instead chose to shag John Bates?"

"I'm just amused that he abandoned you for the first good thing he found." Sampson shrugged, "I thought you had him wrapped around your finger."

"The Judge already gave me hell for my mistakes with John Bates. I don't need a lowly denizen like you trying to give me the same speech." Vera shook her head, "Shit happens and we make mistakes."

"Like killing Sara O'Brien?"

"It worked to my purposes." Vera rolled her shoulders back, "I don't see that as a mistake."

"She was your most loyal servant."

"She failed me, on multiple occasions."

"So you'd show no mercy?" Sampson shivered, "I find that colder than the weather, which I did not think possible."

Vera only snorted, "If the Judge taught me anything it was that you don't show mercy."

"You begged it of him."

"He trusts me to do the job and I did. One less light in the world, one less do-gooder mucking things about for us, and it broke John Bates in two to hold his dying lover. There's not much better I could've accomplished."

"You could've done a bit better about snuffing out her light." Vera frowned but said nothing as Sampson opened the door and stepped to the side to allow her to exit the motor. "But I'm sure the Judge can explain it to you."

Vera narrowed her eyes at Sampson but pushed out of the motor to follow the necromantic door guardian inside. Once again the darkness engulfed her and her steps echoed with her tentative caution until the deep voice of the Judge echoed about the room. "Hello Vera, back so soon?"

"I never refuse when you call me to you, Your Honor."

"Good." The light flashed, a spark shooting up to engulf the room in light as the Judge sat on a chaise lounge and turned the page of a thick book with a paper cover. "I was curious if you'd heard the news."

"What news?"

The Judge looked up, setting the novel to the side so it teetered precariously on a stack of books, and opened his hands to her. "John Bates is back in the city. I guess the north didn't agree with him."

"Losing the love of his life didn't agree with him."

"And what did we gain by his loss?"

Vera frowned, "We snuffed out her light, Your Honor. That's all there ever is for us to gain."

The Judge only chuckled, pulling a leg up as he spread his arms back to lounge in his seat. "You really don't understand what you've done, do you?"

"No… sir?"

"You see," The Judge kicked himself to stand, walking the distance between with his hands behind his back as if he were a lecturer about to give details on a complicated mathematics problem to a theater of students. "When you kill someone in love, you don't extinguish their light."

"Dead is dead, sir."

"Only to those who've never been in love and have no concept of it." The Judge turned to Vera. "You never loved John Bates so what you felt when he left wasn't heartbreak but betrayal. Your minion left you and you wanted revenge. You understood that, didn't you?"

"Of course. That's why I ripped his love from his hands."

"But you didn't." The Judge laughed, "Because you don't understand love and it'll destroy you in the end Vera."

"What's to understand? Love is weakness."

"Perhaps." The Judge shrugged, shaking his head as if he realized it would do him no good to attempt to explain a concept to someone with no frame of reference. "But when we fail to understand our enemies, we fail."

"I won't fail to get rid of John Bates."

"Again you're missing the point." The Judge rounded on her and Vera froze as the tone in his voice bit into her skin to dot her with pinpricks of pain as if his voice would kill her with a death of a thousand cuts. "It's not just about one person. It's never about one person and when you become so myopic in your endeavors you forget it's about more than that, you'll fail."

"Not this time Your Honor."

He sighed, shaking his head and pointing toward the blackened corridor. "Then I wish you luck in robbing John Bates of his light. I do hope you don't fail me again or I'll have to think about further restrictions on your privileges."

"I'll remember Your Honor." Vera turned to leave, feet already pointed down the dark corridor.

"Vera?" She turned over her shoulder to see the Judge reaching for the cord to his dangling light. "Whatever did you do with Ms. O'Brien?"

"She failed me so I killed her."

"And the angel? Or, the ex-angel I guess?"

Vera's lip ticked up in a leer. "He'll suffer slowly and almost eternally as the poison soaks through his veins."

"You poisoned him?"

"He's not going back to heaven and I've no further use for him here." Vera waved her hand as if she batted away a fly. "Why leave him for someone else to use?"

"Sometimes you shock me with your foresight and other times I'm astounded by your stupidity." The Judge pulled the cord and cast the room into darkness. "I guess that's the paradox of humanity. So much potential so often wasted on those with no concept of higher thought."

"Yes, Your Honor." Vera walked back to the motor, ignoring the doorkeeper that closed the entrance to leave it invisible to the naked eye. She faced Sampson, leaned against the motor. "Are you using that motor at the moment?"

Sampson's lips curled into a smile. "Am I correct in assuming you're going to hunt down John Bates?"

"It's not much of a hunt." Vera climbed into the passenger seat as Sampson took the wheel. "I know exactly where he'll be."

* * *

John leaned on the railing, squinting against the harsh light that occasionally broke through the gray clouds and bounced off the water to blind him. His coat, crunching when he moved and disturbed the ice forming over the damp patches from the rain, tightened about him as John wrapped it closer to his body. To block the chill from the outside or contain the chill within him he did not know.

It did not matter either way really.

A motor whizzed past and John only flicked his eyes to the side to notice the traffic. The motors and carriages and horses crossing from one side of the city to the other and paying him no mind at all. Just as he paid them no mind and returned to his study of the water and the city and a distance clock face as it ticked the interminable minutes while he slowly froze to the railing.

"I never did understand what you saw in this bridge." John kept his gaze forward, the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end as her voice tickled his skin as if looking for chinks in his armor. But he was defenseless. "It's just a bridge."

"It's more than that." John turned to face Vera, noting the man behind her. "But you never understood that so even if I explained it to you it wouldn't make sense."

"Something to do with affection, I'd imagine."

"Memories attached to nice things." John snorted, "Not that you'd know anything about that. Not with a mother who left you as soon as she could drop you from her tit and a father who only wanted to take that broken soda bottle to you."

Vera bristled but it only rang like a tin bell through John. The hollowness inside him only echoed the darkness now rising up to feed on the moment of cruelty. They faced one another as the man stepped forward. John nodded at him, a snort escaping him.

"Get tired of O'Brien and her sycophantic obsession with you?"

"She failed me and I did what I do when people fail me."

"So she's lying in gutter somewhere?" John addressed the man. "I hope you know that's what waits for you. When she's done with you, she'll wash her hands cleaner than Pilate did and not think twice. You'll be naught but a barely remembered thought."

"Then it's good I don't work for her."

"Everyone does in the end." John turned to Vera again, "Isn't that what you told me? That there are only those who work for you or those who will?"

"Is that your way of begging yourself back into my graces?"

"There's no grace to you. Just like there's not a kind bone in your body or a drop of mercy in your blood or a smidge of love in your heart." John sighed, "I just wish your father had better aim with that broken soda bottle and not stabbed himself instead of you."

"My father never stabbed himself, John." Vera pointed toward her chest, "I killed my father when he tried to touch me."

"Your first step down your primrose path eh?" John shrugged and opened his arms to her. "Now what Vera? Will you drive a stake through my heart or take knife to my stomach to let me see my intestines? Or will you strangle me with your own two hands?"

"It's funny but I've imagined them all." Vera stalked toward him but John did not move, staying still as she came closer. "And each gave me pleasure in moments when nothing else could rock me to sleep at night."

"And you slept like a crying baby I'm sure."

"I slept well enough but nothing could silence the desire to rip you limb from limb and watch the light fade from your eyes." She fingers grabbed his collar, yanking him toward her so their noses practically touched. "But I couldn't just kill you. Where's the fun in that?"

"We were never fun." John held her gaze. "It was nothing but toxic darkness."

"You know," Vera's eyes seemed to search his, as if there was an answer she could pry from him there. "I wondered what happened when she died in your arms. Did it hurt as much as a knife in your gut or a bullet to the heart? Or was it both?"

John gritted his teeth, "It hurt like you can't imagine."

"Then that's enough for me." Vera released his coat, stepping back. "Why kill you when I could just let you suffer the rest of your life without her? Why deny myself the pleasure of knowing you'll live the rest of your pitiful existence in the drudgery of depression knowing she's gone forever. Her light…"

She pantomimed snuffing out a candle and John broke.

The darkness raged in him and he attacked with flying fists. Vera blocked his motions and they crossed off the boardwalk and into the path of oncoming motors and carriages. Shouts and yells, shrieks of surprised horses brought short and even the shrill whistle of an officer could not stop them. They fought back and forth, strikes impacting but almost as if neither could feel a thing. Even with their most ferocious energies dedicated to injuring the other, it was as if they were nothing but smoke.

John's arms flailed, striking and driving at Vera but she batted him away as if her were nothing. Despite believing he was hollow and empty, the force of her fists bruised and ached. He tripped and stumbled away from her, taking on the defensive more and more the closer they got to the other side of the bridge. And when they reached it, she beat him against the side like a boxer on the ropes. He raised his arms but Vera blew them away and cracked his nose with her forehead.

Dazed and barely holding to the railing, John tried to stand. Vera landed a hit to his gut so he sagged and then lifted him with her hands back in his lapels. Their faces met and John blinked as if keeping her image steady would steady him. Instead it only made him sicker as a flame lit in her eyes.

"If there's a life after this one, I hope you never find her." Vera pushed his lower back into the railing. "And I'll see you in Hell."

Her hands pushed at his chest and John fell over the side of the bridge. The rush of wind past his ears stopped his heart and he flailed. But no matter what he did, he hit the frigid water and broke through the thin layer of ice there to sink into the icy depths.

Vera dusted her hands and saluted to the water. "Another light out."

* * *

A man in a sopping coat pulled himself from the river. The River Children, running over the rocks to collect the detritus that washed onto the shore, pointed at him and called out to him. But he did not turn.

The name they called was foreign to his ears and he only shook his head and waved them off when they tried to get his attention. He stumbled into the city, almost falling into an older couple. They called him the same name the children from the river had but he only stared at them in confusion.

They became his new family, telling him stories about someone they said looked a lot like him. He kept them company and learned their trades. Joining their little family as a permanent stranger as he would never take a name.

And nameless he remained until their deathbeds. Nameless he remained when he left the River People and wandered the city. Nameless as the city changed around him while he did not change.

Nameless with only one thought: a blonde pianist with a dazzling smile.


	15. No Longer Wandering

He nodded at the man, stepped back as the car barked and puffed before the engine turned over. The other man pushed his blonde hair back and then extended his hand. "You've done us no small kindness."

"It's nothing." He closed the hood, tapping it and going to lift the door to the garage. "I do it every day."

"Well thank you Mister…?"

"Just call me John. John Doe." John pulled the clipboard toward him and finished a few parts of the form before handing it back. "Sign there and there and then you're all ready to go."

"John Doe?" The man signed, trying to hide the laugh John recognized from a hundred other patrons. "Is that really your name?"

"As long as I remember." John waved him out, "Glad to be of service to you."

Pulling the garage door shut, as the car drove away, John walked back toward the office. He set the clipboard to the side and handled the slightly greasy mouse with his black-streaked fingers. The keys stuck a bit but he persisted, entering all the necessary information about the client, and finally clicked 'save' to finish.

As he turned, he jumped at the sight of the lanky ginger man standing in front of me. "Sweet Christmas, Alfred. Why didn't you say something?"

"Sorry Mr. Doe." He pointed to the far side of the garage. "There's a tricky engine job over there but I didn't want to distract you while you were using the computer."

"I'm not entirely helpless with it." John traded clipboards with Alfred and examined the information. "I just work better with machines and hardware than I do with software."

"Explains why you only have a landline." Alfred gave a stretched smile and John returned it so the younger man gave a real smile. "My grandparents only have one of those."

"Do they now?" John shrugged, leaning around Alfred to see the car. "How are they?"

"Still asking about you and insisting you should come to dinner." Alfred chewed his lip. "They keep talking like they grew up with you."

"I just have one of those faces." John clapped Alfred's shoulder. "Make sure I did it right and get on with the next car yeah?"

"Yes sir."

John crossed the garage and knocked his knuckles against the car door to alert the woman. "According to my assistant over there you've got a bit of a-"

He froze. For a moment the woman was not sitting with her hands on a steering wheel but with her fingers on piano keys. Her hair glowed as if imbued with light. And when his eyes met his, John wondered if he could drown in the blue there.

"Yes?" Her voice broke through his reverie and John shook himself, coughing to clear his throat.

"Alfred says you've got a bit of a tricky issue."

"It's a bit of a sticky wicket." She smiled at his expression. "It's a cricket term. Means we're in a bit of a difficult situation."

"Right." John swallowed, "Play cricket do you?"

"I did on year abroad but I wasn't any good at it."

"Better at piano?" John bit his tongue when her brow furrowed.

"How'd you know I play piano?"

"Your fingers." John pointed and noted how she closely examined her hands. "The spread of your fingers and the way you were tapping out whatever beat you've got going in your headphones. You know the notes."

"Do you?"

"I don't play but…" John frowned, something nagging at his mind. "I think I knew someone who played very well once."

"You think?"

"It's…" He shrugged, "It's been awhile."

"Well, I hope you enjoy the music."

"Very much so. It touches the heart."

"Pianos have a way of doing that for people. As long as they're well-tended and well-played."

"Played from the heart."

"Of course. And, speaking of hearts…" She pointed toward the engine. "Think you can fix this one?"

"I can fix anything with a metal heart." John wrote something quickly on the clipboard and set it to the side. "Give me a few minutes and you'll be all mended."

"Good thing. I've got places to go today and I need this car to get me there."

"Then let's get you ship shape and Bristol fashion so you can be on your way."

She leaned out the window of her car as he raised the bonnet. "That quick to get rid of me?"

He leaned around it, smiling at her. "You're that quick to want to get away."

Her laugh rang in his ears like a familiar song he could not remember the title of but stuck with him as if he once knew it by heart. John shook himself and set to checking the over the car to fix its minutest of problems. Once he was sure it all sang beautifully, he closed the bonnet and nodded at it.

"Give her a go." She revved the engine and it purred, spreading a grin over John's face as he wiped his hands on the cloth hanging from his pocket before filling out the form. He passed it through the open window toward her. "Winterized and ready for the blizzard out there."

"It's not that bad." She checked over the form, signing it quickly at the bottom before digging in her bag for her card. "My family has a place up north by this huge lake and we'd freeze out there since my great-grandmother refused to change a thing about that place."

"No one mended the heating?"

"The boiler was always finicky and she refused to alter a corner of the place or upgrade." She sighed, handing over her card for him to run the bill. "I guess it's what happens when you're dedicated to a place."

"Any particular reason she'd be so attached to it?" John paused, "If I can even ask… I don't want to step on any toes."

"Only my toes now." She put her arm on the door, resting her chin on it as she watched him finish the work. "My great-grandmother's passed and left me the house. I don't know why but it gets me a place in the summers when I want to leave the city."

"No other family?"

"Just me a Gran since my dad passed when I was nine and my mother married someone else." She took her card back, signing the receipt. "They're enjoying California winters while I stay here."

"Maybe they were the smart ones."

"Maybe." She shrugged, passing everything back to him. "I just couldn't leave this city. There's something about this place that keeps me going."

"Like what?"

She shrugged again, a grin spreading over her face. "Not sure I could explain it with words. It's like the greenhouse my great-grandmother always talked about."

John frowned, "Not sure I follow."

"It's one of those things you know but can't describe. Like the greenhouse at my family's place on the lake. My great-grandmother swore it was there, claimed she built a fairy bed in it, but I never found it and I scoured every inch of our property." She snapped her fingers, "Nada."

"Well, here's hoping you do find it." John opened the garage door and waved her out. "Your future awaits and your chariot is ready."

"Thank you again Mister…?"

"Doe, John Doe." John extended a hand and went to draw back but she shook it. "Sorry about the grease."

"I used to race cars for a living, I know grease." She settled back. "And I'm glad I finally found a place that listens to my engine instead of banging around with a spanner until they shut it up."

"I know how to fix things." John took his turn to shrug. "It's my gift."

"And mine it seems." She buckled herself in, "It's been a pleasure Mr. Bates."

"It really has Miss…" John stopped himself, watching her drive off in shock before shouting, "I don't know your name."

"It's on your form." She hollered back and he could still see her smile as she turned onto the street and drove away.

John hurried to check the form and then blinked at the screen when he confirmed the name he saw. There, in words that felt familiar despite how normal they were, was her name. A name that sunk deep into his soul: Anna Smith.

* * *

Vera blinked.

She sat straighter in her chair, her blink turning to a squint that furrowed her brow until the frown stuck to her face. Pushing back from her chair, she paced the large office with its glass-enclosed view of the city and stared down at the myriad of buildings there. As her eyes roved the city, its expanse stretched out before her like a kingdom, she sniffed.

"Sampson!" Vera turned to the door, noting his bored expression greeting her from the doorway. "Get me a meeting with the Judge."

"You know he's busy this time of year."

"He's busy all times of the year."

Sampson sighed, shaking his head. "You just reported to him last week. Sin was up, desperation was too, hope was low, and the lights in this city are slowly going to only be defined by the ones you see when someone flips a switch. You've got nothing new to tell him."

"Then tell me why I just got a twitch at the back of my neck telling me there's more?" Vera knocked the glass with her knuckle and stalked to the man. "Do you remember where we were a hundred years ago?"

"You? Some grungy little warehouse at the edge of the docks, if I remember correctly." Sampson let a little smirk take over his lips. "Me, I was living the high life uptown."

"And now." Vera stood before him and noted the tremor in Sampson's lip. "Where are you now, Terrance?"

"Working with you."

"Exactly." Vera put a hand on his shoulder and pushed them both to look out the door so she could point at the people in the desks that stretched from her office to the lifts. "And those people? There's not a single one of them who'd think twice about killing you on this carpet if I told them your job was up for grabs. Like Sinderby there. Or maybe Susan Flintshire."

Sampson swallowed and Vera turned him again to stare at her. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're irreplaceable. You thought that once, when you thought you were above me, and see how those tables turned?"

"Yes." Sampson whispered and Vera lowered her head, dramatic in how she put her hand behind her ear as if to get close enough to hear him.

"I'm sorry? What did you say?"

"I saw how the tables turned."

"Good." Vera faced him, her mouth forming a hard line. "Don't disappoint me or make me have to explain this to you again. Get me a meeting with the Judge, now."

Sampson slipped sideways to his desk and Vera went back into her office. She paced back to the windows, folding her arms over her chest as her mouth pursued. Her fingers twitched, as if she could feel the lines of the city and trace the source of the disturbance, and then settled.

"What are you hiding now?"

* * *

Thomas coughed into his handkerchief, waving off someone who tried to offer him a tissue and tried to give an apologetic look to the woman who hurried to shuffle her child away from him. He took a deep breath, cold air stinging his lungs and making his hands shake but he took the breath all the same. His head rested back against the side of the building where he tried to shelter from the wind that whipped through the city as if driven by the Devil himself.

"Wouldn't that be something?"

Thomas blinked, the man in a white and beige suit crouching down in front of him. "What?"

"To see the Devil whipping the wind." The man smiled, crooked and matching his thatch of curly black hair. "To see him doing something so mundane."

"Did I-"

"Say it aloud?" The other man shook his head, "No. But I could tell what you were thinking."

"How?"

The man tapped his forehead and then tapped his finger once against Thomas's. In a moment he blinked against the brilliance surrounding the man before him. Another tap and it fade back, now nothing more than a slight halo above the man's head and an ethereal shroud around his body.

"Does that explain it to you Mr. Barrow?"

"Who sent you?"

"That's a bit tricky, technically speaking." The man winked at Thomas and extended a hand. "Would you like to have this conversation somewhere else?"

Thomas stared at the man's flawless and scrubbed hand before turning to his fingerless, holey gloves over fingers and hands caked with dirt. He shook his head, slowly and then more emphatically as he noted the distinct difference between himself and clean being before him. "I'm-"

"Dirty? Desperate? Deadly?" The man shook his head, keeping his hand extended. "I've got a key to that, if you'd like."

Without a second thought, Thomas took the hand and let the man pull him to his feet. "Can anyone see us?"

"They see a homeless man and whatever else they want to see." The man pumped Thomas's hand. "I'm Andrew, by the way."

"Who sent you to me, Andrew?"

"There was a man who believed he owed you a bit of a debt and when you reached the depths of your current humility, the Man Upstairs decided it was time to intervene."

"Intervene?" Thomas blinked, craning his neck back to stare up at the gray-cloudy sky as it dropped snowflakes in gentle wafts. "Why?"

"You're suffering the consequences of your actions, Mr. Barrow, and while He doesn't interfere with the course of our agency, He does interfere when we plead to Him and you've been pleading rather a lot lately." Andrew kept pace with Thomas, the two of them walking away from the cardboard platform that was Thomas's former home. "Why is that? Why plead for mercy and forgiveness now? It's been a hundred years since that poor girl died."

"I…" Thomas cleared his throat, "It won't make any sense."

"I'm an angel Thomas, like you were." Andrew stopped them on a street corner, facing him. "I'll understand."

"Then do you understand the feeling that you might watch history repeat itself?"

Andrew frowned, as if deep in thought, and then nodded. "There've been a few times where decisions made and options rejected felt rather like déjà vu but that is because humans, on the whole, tend to be predictable beings of habit."

"But never otherwise?"

"Not that I recall but I am rather new at this job."

Thomas gave a little shrug. "It's understandable. Is it suiting you well?"

"I like interacting with people. Inspiration and gentle nudges mostly."

"Those are great." Thomas stopped himself, "But I had it, that kind of déjà vu earlier this afternoon. Like something could change."

"Like what?"

Thomas shrugged, "I don't know. I couldn't track the source but I think it had something to do with that girl I helped…"

"Kill?"

"I was going to say 'die' but I could see where you might choose the other word." Thomas shook his head, "I made the wrong deal a long time ago and I didn't realize it when I did."

"We're all fools in love." Andrew patted his shoulder, "And I understand the temptation. We're not perfect, we're just dead."

"I know that and I want to make it right." Thomas uncovered his right hand, ravaged and mangled. "I want to fix this."

"You can't bring anyone back from the dead, Mr. Barrow."

"But what if history could repeat itself?" Thomas put up a finger and Andrew's face manipulated as if he were considering something for the first time. "What if we got another chance to save someone's life? A chance to get another light going up to Him instead of stolen away by Vera and her kind?"

"What if?"

"I'd need my power back. I'd need to be like I was." Thomas put a hand on Andrew's arm. "I can't trace it faster than her if I don't have those skills."

"That's not for me to decide. I was here for peer review. Full restoration of power isn't an internal issue. That's for the Big Man Himself."

"Then please, take my case to Him? See if He'll let me try and help set this all right again?"

Andrew pursed his lips and nodded, "I'll see what I can do Mr. Barrow. I make no promises but I will try."

"Thank you." Thomas hugged Andrew close, ignoring that the other man flailed a bit as he tried to gain his balance. "Thank you."

"I don't…" Andrew extricated himself, grinning at Thomas. "I don't think I'm the one to thank but you already know that."

"I do." Thomas took a step back as Andrew looked toward the sky and then vanished in a beam of light. Following his path, Thomas's head tipped back and he tracked the tears making their gentle way down his cheeks. "Thank you."

* * *

Anna rubbed her eyes and then groaned, noting the black streak there. "Dammit."

"That's not appropriate language for the holidays." She looked up, beaming at the older woman making her way into the little office. "And this place is a sty."

"Cleaning's for spring, Gran." Anna stood up, nabbing a tissue to wipe off her hand as she rounded the desk to pick up a stack of papers so the older woman could sit. "What brings you down from your high tower?"

"Do I need an excuse to see my granddaughter?"

"I'm not your granddaughter here." Anna looked around for a place to place the stack and then distracted herself sorting through it, sending decent chunks of it into the recycling bin next to the door. "I'm your sport editor and I do an alright job at it so if you're here then it's because you're professionally praising me or you've got something you want to say to me."

"Both, actually." Gran settled in her chair, looking around the office. "And here I thought you'd try to make good with your department and coat your office in those obscene hanging hoops for basketball or have a mini fridge for cheap and cold American beer."

"You make it sound like you're not an American." Anna snorted, dealing with the remainder of the pile. "And I don't have that. Rose, two desks over does."

"Rose? Is she the one married to the accountant?"

"He's a banker and working as a consultant with our financial section up a floor." Anna took the chair next to her grandmother. "What brings you down here Gran?"

"I was hoping you'd given more thought to my proposal."

"Oh," Anna stood up, making herself busy with another stack before just dumping it into the bin. "I don't want to talk about that now."

"It's going to come sooner rather than later Anna."

"Then I'd rather deal with it later." Anna crossed her hands over her chest. "I'm not ready."

"You're inheriting this paper. It's the family business and that comes with responsibilities."

"You're not here to lecture me about decorum are you?" Anna frowned, "Because you've never had a problem with my professionalism or-"

"I'd never comment on what I find impeccable, dear." Gran stood, taking Anna's hands from where they ground her palms against her trousers. "I'm here because I need you to move out of this office you've made your own fire trap and make your way up to the Deputy Editor's office where you belong."

"And that's not nepotism?"

"I never said it wasn't." Gran snorted, "You think the whole company didn't think that same thing when I took this over from my mother? Or her from her father? Everyone will always think that because you've got the 'Smith' name that's all you've got but you'll prove yourself to them the way I did."

"And what if I don't want the company?" Anna pulled her hands loose, crossing them over her chest as she straightened her back. "What if I want to go back to driving?"

"Everyone needs a hobby." Gran put her hands on Anna's arms and waited for Anna to meet her eyes. "I know why you're scared."

"Do you?" Anna held her jaw still but Gran risked a hand to her chin, shaking it slightly.

"I'm your grandmother, I know everything." Anna managed a half-croaked laugh before her Gran pulled her into a hug so Anna could bury her head on her shoulder and sob. "I know what this diagnosis means to you."

"You're all I've got." Anna clutched her grandmother tighter, words muffled in the sweater that smelled of every memory she ever had.

"That's not true at all." Gran soothed, rubbing over Anna's back. "You've got Moseley on the International Desk and Baxter on Politics."

Anna laughed, pulling away from her grandmother so the other woman could wipe at her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Gran nodded, stroking through Anna's hair. "You're the only family I've got too and we've stuck together for a long time, you and I. but we've all got to go sometime."

"I don't want you to."

"I know. And I don't want to go either." Her fingers stroked through Anna's hair. "We're luckier than most you know."

"How?"

"Because so many wouldn't know the 'when' of it all." Gran snapped her fingers. "One moment here and the next moment gone but we've got the advantage. We know when it's coming."

"It doesn't make it better."

"No," Gran shook her head, "But it does let us prepare. Prepare to move you into your new office, into my house, and to get the Grange all mended."

Anna puffed out a snort. "That place'll be a fortune to remodel."

"Then isn't it a good thing you're about to inherit a shit ton of money?"

"I thought that wasn't appropriate language for the holidays?" Anna narrowed her eyes but her grandmother only shrugged and pulled a tissue from Anna's desk to wipe away the evidence of her tears.

"I'm old and I forget things all the time."

"You remembered Daisy, from the shipping department, when you'd only met her once and all the details from that interview with the Ambassador for Ukraine when he wouldn't let you record the session."

"Well," Gran waved her hand, "It comes and goes."

They could both only laugh.


	16. Man Discovered

John yanked the garage door closed, slapping his hand against it so it stayed in place, and pulled his gloves on before shoving both hands deep into his pockets. His collar flipped up against the blistering breeze, John aimed his feet on the pavement to begin his walk home. The long walk in the yellow-white light cast by the streetlamps that, this late at night, were his only companions.

The changing lights at the nearest four-way stop, changed in his favor and he entered the crosswalk. It was only a moment but the breaks and a horn alerted him to an approaching car. But there was nowhere for John to go. He dodged as much as he was able but the front bumper still caught his leg and sent him skidding over the icy road into a snowdrift.

Catching his breath, heart beating a million miles a second, John fought his way clear of the snow. A hand caught his, yanking him to stand, and then provided their shoulder for support when John's leg crumpled under him. Another pair of hands grabbed his other side and limped him toward the car blazing its lights in the darkness with the wipers thumping steadily against the steady snow.

"I'm so sorry. We hit a patch of black ice and… Hey, you're the guy from the garage, John Doe."

"Yep." John gritted his teeth, hopping out of the hold of the blonde man from that morning. "Mr. Crawley, wasn't it?"

"That's right." He pointed to the side. "Except it was Mrs. Crawley driving."

"Way to be a gentleman." Mrs. Crawley's hand slapped against Mr. Crawley's chest as the woman with high cheekbones and the porcelain skin turned to John. "Is there someplace we could take you? Matthew's mother is a nurse at St. James General just up the-"

"It wouldn't do me any good." John tried putting weight on his leg, pulling it back with a hiss when the pain proved just as ominous as the dark patch on his trousers. "I've not got insurance."

"In this day and age?"

"It's hard to do when you've got no proof of you who you are." John hobbled on his leg, waving them off. "I'll be fine."

"Look," Mrs. Crawley stepped into his path, stopping him. "We don't have to go to a hospital if you're afraid someone'll call ICE or something because you're an illegal."

"I'm not an illegal." John frowned, "I've lived in this city… For a very long time."

"Like how long?" She folded her arms over her chest, ignoring the cold and her husband's insistent pull on her arm. "Like squatter's rights long?"

"Like I was raised over by the river and spent my life there until the people who lived there died out." John shook his head, "It's a bit of an impossible story and I don't think you'd believe it even if I could tell it to you."

"You're named John Doe, you fixed my husband's car this morning, and I just hit you with that same car." Mrs. Crawley shook her head, waving of Matthew's more frantic hiss.

"Mary! It's none of our-"

"Tell you what, mystery man, we take you back to ours. You wait for Mrs. Crawley to get home, she'll patch you up, and then we all pretend this never happened." She stuck her hand toward John, still using the roof of the car to help himself remain upright. "What do you say?"

"Sounds like a bad idea."

"Well the 'bad idea' part of this evening was having this conversation in the open when it's brass monkeys out. So," Mary reached around him, almost toppling him onto his ass again as she opened the door and nodded toward the interior. "Come on. It's the least I can do when I almost killed you."

John opened his mouth but caught Matthew's shaking head. "Fine."

"Good." Mary held the door only long enough for John to crawl into the back before slamming the door and calling to Matthew. "You'd better drive."

John eased himself along the backseat, stretching out his leg and going to pull up his trouser leg. A hand slapped his away and he turned to see Mary, leaning over the seat and then crawling into the rear of the car to straddle him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"My sister's a nurse."

"And with similar training I'd trust you the same way I'll trust her but for now I think it's best you-"

"Mary-"

"Shut it, both of you." Mary pulled out her phone, almost blinding John when she flipped her finger to get the flashlight going. "I've got a clue what I'm doing."

"Mary we'd better wait until we get back to the flat. Then we'll have my mother and Sybil there and-"

"Please, both of you, I'm trying to focus." Mary pulled Johns trouser leg up and cringed. "Never mind."

"What?" John grabbed at the back of Matthew's seat to sit up as Mary managed the awkward crawl back into her seat. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're right. I'd best not touch." Mary flicked the flashlight off, opening her phone to search through her contacts. "Do you think we should still hold the dinner? If we're bringing an invalid up there… All the blood…"

"What does 'all the blood' mean?" John demanded but Mary ignored him and touched her thumb to the screen before putting it to her ear.

"Hey, I was wondering if you were… Oh you're already there?" Mary grimaced at Matthew, who only shook his head with a sigh. "No, no, that's fine. We've just… We're just running a little late and we've got someone else coming with us. No, it's no problem. We've got more than… No, stay, I insist. Okay. Good. See you in a bit. Bye."

She ended the call and stuffed her phone away. "They're already there."

"You're the one who said, 'hey, maybe we should give her a key so she can help us out'. That was you, remember?"

"It must be fantastic for you to constantly have chances to throw the dumb things I say back in my face."

"Not like I get very many chances."

"You just had one you took now."

"And when was the last time I did that Mary? I'm being serious, when?"

"I remember Christmas with your mother back when-"

"That's not fair. We-"

"HEY!" John slapped his hand against the door and the two people in the front seat quieted. "What's wrong with my leg?"

"I think I might've broken it." Mary shook her head, "But, like you said, I don't have the training."

John only glared at her, settling back into the seat as they drove deeper into town. The car pulled under a high rise, Matthew managing the tight turns of the underground parking with ease and getting them into a spot near a lift. He and Mary got out, both moving to the side of the car where John's legs stretched out, and then helping him onto their shoulders. Matthew held him for a moment while Mary closed up the car and grabbed a few things from the boot. Then, with him between them like a four-legged-race, they managed to get into the lift.

As they stood there, John leaning on both of them with his leg held off the floor and only the lift music to entertain them in the awkward silence, John almost laughed. Instead he snorted, shaking his head. Mary shifted next to him so she could see his face.

"Something funny Mr. Doe?"

"Have you even considered the picture we make here?" Matthew's snort turned into sniggering laughter as Mary only looked back at the door. "I mean… It's ridiculous."

"I'll be more inclined to laugh when we figure this out."

They worked their way out of the lift, shuffling sideways through the hallway and surprising a few of the neighbors, but eventually reached the door. Mary dug for her key, forcing John's weight mostly onto Matthew as the smaller man groaned. "She's already inside why not just-"

"Open." Mary scoffed, taking John's arm back. "Where's the trust?"

"Where's the common sense?" Matthew led them to the nearest sofa in the sitting room and they got John onto it.

"Try not to bleed everywhere." Mary cautioned as she dug her phone from her pocket and disappeared down a hallway, calling to Matthew as she did. "Sybil's just texted. She and your mother are coming at the same time."

"Perfect." Matthew helped John lift his leg and got a towel under him before taking his coat and gloves off. "Want me to take yours too?"

"Sure." John worked himself loose and handed them over, keeping to the edge of the sofa in his work uniform. "I'm a little underdressed for this place."

"It's just furniture." Matthew took the coats, leaving John alone on the sofa.

He let his gaze wander the room, noting the pictures and photographs hanging from the walls. As he did he saw one with a grand piano and two women on it. One of the women he recognized as Mary, her longer legs and arms managing from the bass cleft while the smaller woman handled the treble.

The same woman who gasped as she entered the sitting room and blinked at back his surprise. "Mr. Doe?"

"Ms. Smith?" John let a smile come over his face, "We meet again."

"So it seems." She frowned and then pointed to his leg. "Did you-"

"Accident." John opened his hands toward the injury, shrugging. "Black ice."

"What can you do?" Ms. Smith eased forward, pointing to the side of the couch near his stretched leg. "Mind some company while you wait?"

"I'd love some considering I'm not sure if they're just getting the saw to take my whole leg off and rid themselves of the worry."

Ms. Smith laughed, bringing her arm up to support her head so she could it against her hand. "I don't think I realized it at the time but I've never had someone that intuitive about my car before."

"I know my way around things. I could always fix them up because they just spoke to me."

"Sounds like a good way to make a living."

"It's been a way to make a living for a long time."

"Anna we've got-" Mary entered the room, stopping when she saw Anna and John on the same sofa. "Never mind, I guess you already know."

"Mr. Doe was the one who did up my car today."

Mary raised an eyebrow, "Did she also tell you that's the car she races?"

"Races?" John turned to Anna, who only shrugged.

"I used to drive race cars for a living."

"She drag raced as a child too." Mary pushed the blade up on a box cutter and nodded toward John's trousers. "Your choice. I cut them open or you shuck them to save for later."

"That's a bit extreme Mary." A voice came from the door and John turned over his shoulder to see a younger woman with Mary's hair but blue eyes and an older one with Matthew's bone structure enter the flat. "I'm sure we don't need all that and you're just trying to scare him."

"It's her pastime." Ms. Smith managed, moving off the sofa as the two other women approached. "And she's good at it."

"Well don't be so beastly Mary." The younger woman chided, bringing her bag over to the ottoman and setting it there as she took a towel Matthew offered before he kissed the other woman on the cheek. "You will have to lose your trousers."

"Come on then. We'll leave Sybil and Mother to their work." Matthew grabbed Mary's hand and jerked his head toward Anna. "And get supper started and leave you all to your curing in private so it's not a peep show."

John watched Anna leave, noting how she peeked back at him from her retreat, and then lifted himself up to help Sybil remove his trousers. She winced when she saw the damage while Mrs. Crawley spread the spare towel over John's waist to give him a bit of modesty. Sybil looked up at him, the grimace still prominent on her face.

"This won't be fun."

"I'm durable."

"I do hope so."

* * *

Vera waited, pacing in her black coat outside the building, The door creaked open and she caught sight of the shorter woman there, her mouth sown shut to offset the sunken natures of her eyes and cheeks. With a swallow, Vera nodded.

"You must be the new girl. I heard he'd gotten a new door guard."

The woman made no noise, only stepping back to allow Vera to enter the familiarly pitch black of the corridor. Her eyes pricked to find even the barest hint of light but it was only the counting of steps and the barest sounds of her feet that allowed her to not run right into the metal railing that kept her above the platform where the Judge always waited.

"Sampson was not given to you as a toy." The light flared and Vera blinked, noting the Judge turning the page in a book larger than his head. "He's my agent, not yours. He's a loan."

"And I used him like I was supposed to, to make this meeting." Vera tapped her fingers on the railing and the Judge sighed, waving her closer. "I felt something today and I don't know what it was."

"Emotions aren't part of your job."

"It wasn't an emotion." Vera shuddered, "It was… Like something strummed a finger along the lines I've got all over the city."

The Judge sighed, turning the page in his book, "If you come to me with every petty frustration I'll think you confused me with a more benevolent being who actually cares about the problems and troubles of His children."

"It felt like John Bates." The Judge stopped, his eyes flicking up from his book and turning toward Vera. She nodded, "Felt just like him."

"You told me you killed him." The Judge closed his book, standing up from his sofa to pull his green waistcoat straight and then pat his auburn hair. "You told me all that mess was resolved. A hundred years ago you came in here, crowing to the rooftops that you finished it all and I'd nothing to fear."

He closed in on Vera, her back straightening on impulse to try ands top herself shivering as his breath blew cold over her. "Don't tell me that you lied to the Father of Lies, Vera."

"I didn't lie. I tossed him from that bridge. He broke through the ice. The fall, alone should've killed him because physics says-"

"I don't give a damn what physics says." The Judge thundered and Vera unconsciously took a step back. "I care about those things you fail to perceive because you're a child. You, for as long as I've given you life, still fail to grasp even the simplest of concepts."

"I grasp that what I felt was like John Bates but it could've been-"

"It was John Bates, you idiot." The Judge flicked his finger against her forehead, the sensation freezing her skin but burning her n the inside. "You were so focused back then on snuffing out his light, on grinding the face of the poor, that you forgot about the light from the pianist."

"She was already dead."

"But she'd already used her light on him." The Judge studied her face but Vera had no answer. "You couldn't steal his light because hers protected him. It didn't leave when she died because she loved him so much he couldn't die. That means her light's still in this world and so is his."

"That's impossible."

"Only because you fail to understand the concept that death is not the end for people who believe in love. It's only the beginning of their grander adventures. Her love had the power to keep him safe until her light could find him again and what you felt today was her light finally sparking with his again. They're connected, forever and eternally, because you ripped them apart." The Judge gave a laugh that only turned Vera's insides colder. "You didn't rid me of their lights… You only made them stronger."

"I can still fix this."

"Like you did last time?" The Judge snorted, walking back toward his sofa. "I don't think I'll tolerate another failure. You killed Sara O'Brien for nothing once. Imagine if I was that swift in my meting of punishment to you."

Vera clenched her jaw. "Then do it. You've been threatening since the moment I crawled down here for the first time so do it. Fulfill on your threat or prove that you're not only the Father of Lies but also the First of Cowards."

The Judge flew at her, as if born on black wings, and landed right in front of her to lay his fingers around her throat. He squeezed and Vera choked on her breaths as he hissed at her, forked tongue darting between his teeth. "You dare challenge me? I was a prince of Heaven. The Bringer of Light to God Himself."

"And now you're nothing but the serpent whose head'll be crushed under His heel." Vera fought herself loose, coughing. "You forget, I may serve you but I've got a body and you don't."

"And I've got your soul." The Judge opened his arms to her, "So who is the real victor in this battle? You've got your life but I've got your eternity."

"But are we even the victors here?" Vera opened her arms to copy him, noting the twitch of his eyebrow. "I'll tell you something that should chill your blood, if it's not already too frigid to run through your nonexistent veins."

"And what could you tell me that I don't already know?"

"That no matter how far you tip the scales your way, no matter how many lights we snuff out in depression and anger and hatred, no matter how bleak we make their world or how much we strive to rot every crevice of it, nothing breaks their capacity for hope. Nothing breaks their striving for the light." Vera shook her head, scoffing at The Judge. "They pass it back and forth like a cold at a child's fair."

"They're tenacious but so are ants and you can crush them under your boot and-"

"We're losing, Lucifer!" Vera interrupted him, shaking her head. "We're losing with each helpful soul. With each good deed, kind word, gentle caress, baby born into the world we're losing."

The Judge stared at her, "And what'll you do about that?"

"I'm going to find John Bates and then I'll kill him right this time."

* * *

Anna paced around Mary's sitting room, following John's pointed directions as they both tried to ignore the sounds coming from the kitchen. She stopped, tapping the photograph's frame. "This one?"

"Yes and the one next to it. They look like a set."

"They were two days of back-to-back competition." Anna tapped the first. "This one we won three duets in one day. Mary was in a mood that morning too so she finally understood the fury of _Flight of the Bumblebee_."

"And the one next to it?"

"I swam the equivalent of two miles to get the gold medal and two silvers." Anna laughed, "It's difficult to beat someone who strokes two feet longer than you by virtue of their height."

"I can see it." John settled back, "How'd you win the gold then?"

"She got a cramp because she refused the banana at lunch." Anna snorted, shaking her head. "Mary always believes she knows best."

"We all think that." John frowned at one in the corner. "What about that one?"

She tracked over to it, laughing at it. "Family trip. Smith-Crawley holiday when I was fifteen. We went up to that house I told you about, the one on the lake, and spent the summer there. Mary's cousin Patrick almost broke his neck trying to make a tire swing work and my Gran forbid me to go into the attic and I almost fell off the roof." Anna shrugged and brought the picture closer for John to see. "We took it right before we left my house."

John studied the picture, jabbing his finger at the frame. "I've seen this place before."

"Really?" Anna took the picture back as he handed it to her. "How?"

"I don't know." John frowned, scrunching his eyes closed as if it might focus his mind to help him focus. "It was a long time ago but I got to go through the house."

"Really?" Anna snorted, "I know the Historical Society wanted to have my Gran let them run tours through the place but she always refused. Said she'd never let a trail of strangers and weirdos through her home."

"I get the odd feeling I wasn't invited when I went inside." John shrugged, "But I don't know."

"That happen often?" Anna pointed at him, "Where you don't remember things about your own life?"

"More than I'd like but it seems like a repetitive theme today especially." John sighed and waved his hand at the room. "What else?"

Anna shrugged and turned a small circle. "I think that's all the pictures in this room."

"Well," John tapped his bandaged leg. "I'm not going anywhere for a bit so we could talk about something else if you want."

"How about the idea that you don't have insurance." Anna took her first position back on the sofa. "You run a business and you don't have insurance?"

"I don't run. Alfred's grandparents owned the garage and gave me a job there years ago."

"When you were what? Twelve?"

"I honestly don't know how old I am."

Anna frowned, "How do you not know how old you are?"

"Because I don't remember anything before I climbed out of the river."

"The river? As in the Hudson River?" Anna tried to hide her laugh behind her hand, "Did I trip and find myself in a reversed version of _Splash_?"

"Maybe." John shrugged, "I'm not one for movies so I can't say I've seen it."

"Then what happened to put you in the river and how did I not hear about it?" Anna opened a hand toward him. "Someone like yourself crawling out of the river would be big news."

"If it happened now but it happened something like a hundred years ago." John shrugged as Anna's jaw dropped open. "You asked."

"You're trying to tell me you've been alive for a hundred years?"

"Longer if I came out of the river at this age." John shook his head, "It doesn't make any sense but I know it's not fake because I've been to too many funerals to think time's not passing me by like a joke and taking all my friends."

Anna reached forward, covering his hand with hers. When she squeezed it was like her life flashed before her eyes. But it was not her life. Instead it was someone else's. Someone who knew this man and saw him with a different perspective. One that shrouded all of her perceptions with intense emotion that forced Anna's hand back.

She stared at it, as if burned, and noticed John looking at his hand the same way. "Did you just-"

"I don't know." He stared at his hand. "I don't know what that was."

Anna held her hand up to her face, pulling at her fingers as if they might separate and offer her answers. She finally met John's eyes again, blinking as his form shifted to a plain suit, a tuxedo, his naked body, and then to himself again. Forcing her eyes closed, and breathing deeply to try and suffocate the flash of intense desire that coursed through her veins, Anna spoke.

"I thought it was ridiculous when I first met you but…"

"But what?" John's voice was barely a whisper but Anna knew she would hear it if he were halfway across the world.

"But I've got the strangest feeling that we've met before. That we're something to one another."

John opened his mouth as if to speak but could only nod.

Anna almost scooted closer to him but the four others in the house entered the room and she slid back. Mary glanced in her direction but Anna held her gaze and Mary shook it away. She jerked her thumb toward Sybil as she addressed John.

"The good news is that we didn't break you too badly so you'll heal up just fine."

"That intimates that there's bad news." John winced, "Is it really broken?"

"It's not broken." Sybil hurried to assure him but Mary interrupted.

"The bad news is that we're not sure you're not homeless and we don't want you walking home."

"He's not walking home." Anna announced, surprising herself as much as the others. "He's staying at my house."

"Anna that's not-" Mary stopped herself but Matthew continued for her.

"That's not safe."

"He's hobbled and practically crippled." Anna put a hand up toward John. "No offense, I hope."

"None taken."

Anna addressed the quartet in front of them. "I've got the room and he'll just need a day or two right?"

"About that long." Sybil bit her lip, peeking at Mrs. Crawley. "If he's there then we could still check on him. Since you're not going to a hospital or anything."

"Or anything." John affirmed and then turned to Anna. "I'd hate to put you out. I have a place to stay and-"

"And it's safer if you're with Anna." Mary supplied, clapping her hands together. "So, Anna, if you give Matthew your keys then he and Sybil can get Mr. Doe to your car and I'll get you your leftovers."

Mary practically dragged Anna into the kitchen and Anna fought her off. "Touchy much?"

"What are you thinking inviting a stranger into your house?"

"So you can but not me?"

"I had Matthew." Mary shook her head. "You're letting a stranger into your house, with your grandmother, and you're just going to trust him?"

"He trusted you two to bring him to your flat and not murder him."

"Please," Mary scoffed, "Matthew's the least threatening person in the world."

"Doesn't mean it's not a risk." Anna put a hand up to stop Mary arguing again. "I've made my decision and that's the end of it."

"He could be an illegal alien Anna."

"I doubt that."

"Just because he's not brown doesn't mean-"

"Mary!" Anna shook her head, "It's fine. I'll be fine and he'll be fine and once he's more fine then he'll go back to being fine in his life and I'll go back to mine. It's really very simple."

"You're conveniently forgetting the part of this story where you could be dead before you get to the 'fine' part of it."

"Then I'll make him promise to give me a moment, if he's about to violently murder me, to call you so you can tell me you were right before I die." Anna grabbed her containers of food and managed them into a bag. "Honestly, you're so dramatic."

She and Mary took the lifts down to the garage and Anna climbed into the driver seat of her car, John comfortably I the seat next to her. Waving at the crowd around her car, Anna threw it into reverse and managed the tight turns of the building to get them out onto the road. Pausing, the steady hum of the idling engine leading both to look at one another.

"Want me to open her up?"

"I'd be offended if you didn't."

"Fasten your seatbelts." Anna put the car into gear and hit the gas to screech off into the night.


	17. Hopeful Hearts and Troublesome Times

Anna helped John into the foyer of the house and set the containers on a side table before trying to take his arm over her shoulder again. But he maneuvered out of her hold and hopped his way into the next room. Frowning, Anna followed.

"How did you say you knew this house again?"

"I don't know." He paused, contemplating the doors before him and then pushed at one, working his way into the room. "It's like the oddest memory I can't even fully remember."

"But you're sure you've been here before?"

"No."

"No?"

"I _think_ I've been here before." John paused in the room, pointing to the bookcase. "There was a safe here."

"My great-great-grandfather had one there but Gran removed it when she trusted the banks more than our house." Anna trailed John as he continued into the next room and froze. "John?"

"I can't…" He hobbled forward, leaving Anna as if she was nothing compared to the vision only he could see as he headed to the piano.

There she watched john caress the lid, tracing the lines with his fingers as if entranced by the instrument. Anna leaned on the doorjamb and flicked the lights on in the room so it was filled with light. John turned to her, as if he only just noticed her there, and she pointed to the piano.

"Family heirloom."

"Whose?"

"My great-great aunt or so I'm told." Anna walked the edge of the room and found a photograph, pulling it from the wall to show John. "My great-grandmother Gwen always said I looked just like her sister."

John dropped the picture the moment he touched it and only Anna's quick reaction saved it hitting the floor. He shook his head, almost falling into the piano as he looked between the picture and Anna. The swallow that bobbed his Adam's apple put all the hairs on Anna's arms on end.

"You are her."

"Excuse me?" Anna held the picture up and then shook her head, putting it back where it went. "She's been dead a hundred years."

"So have I."

Anna stopped, turning on her heel toward John. "Did she let you in the house?"

"I don't…" John dug his palm into his forehead and ground it there. "I don't remember."

"Because there's no way my great-great-grandfather let you in and my great-grandmother was too young. That means," Anna pointed at the picture and then at John. "She let you into the house. How did you not die of consumption?"

"What?"

"She was consumptive and it's a very contagious disease."

"Doctor now are we?" Both turned as Gran walked into the room.

"Gran?"

"You've many talents Anna but you're not a medical professional." She frowned at John, "And you are?"

"Gran this is John… Doe." Anna sighed at the end of the statement as she realized how ridiculous it sounded and then shrugged, "He fixed my car this morning and then Mary hit him with hers so-"

"No." Gran studied John, her head shaking ever-so-slightly. "That's not your name."

Anna frowned, her mouth opening as she stepped closer to her grandmother and John. "I know, it sounds a little ridiculous but his name is-"

"It's Bates. John Bates." Gran extended her hand, "And it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Is it?" John took her hand, shaking it a bit tentatively as he balanced on one leg. "I wouldn't know."

"Then let me help you." Gran turned to Anna. "Let's get him comfortable and off a leg I'm sure'll heal up just fine if it's not holding you against this piano."

"Gran?" Anna turned her head so quickly between the two of them she was sure she might crick her neck. "What's going on? How do you know him?"

"That's a story better told sitting, not standing."

"Gran-"

"Anna," She snapped her fingers, "We're being very rude to our guest. Please help him to a room where there's a sofa and we'll sort all this out."

With an exasperated sigh that saved her whole chest, Anna helped John back into the study. They managed to get him onto a sofa and stretched his leg out as sounds from the kitchen alerted Anna to the familiar symphony of tea making. With a snort Anna joined John on the last bit of the sofa.

They sat in silence, John's fingers drumming against his trouser leg as Anna held her chin in her hand, running her fingers back and forth over her lips as if she might bite her fingernails. A cluck of disapproval had her dropping her hands to her lap as Gran returned with three cups of tea on a tray with a large book.

"I do hope you're not biting your nails."

"I haven't done that in years."

"She used to get so nervous before her recitals and I had to rap her knuckles with a ruler to stop her biting down to the quick until her nails bled." Gran handed John a cup and then gave one to Anna before she pulled the final cup and the book toward herself. "Almost stained the keys of that piano."

"You could've done what the other mothers did and offer me a pence for each nail that was fine at the end of the day." Anna blew on her tea and sipped it before adding a spritz of lemon she squeezed in her palm.

"I didn't believe in paying for actions that shouldn't exist." Gran stirred her tea, eyes never leaving John. "You're exactly like she described you."

"Who?" John sipped at his tea, balancing the saucer in his other hand.

"My mother, Gwen Smith." Gran opened the book, flipping through the pictures as she spoke. "She knew you when she was younger."

"Did she?" John put his cup down, Anna catching it when not enough of the china landed on the table and slipped it onto the surface before it crashed to the floor. "I don't remember anything before I walked out of the Hudson… a long time ago."

"About a hundred years ago?" Gran finally raised her head as Anna and John dropped their jaws. "That's the only possible explanation since you don't look a day older than when this was taken."

She passed over a photograph and Anna took it, holding it so she was John could look at it. Anna blinked, the family gathered around the table laughing and smiling, unaware the photograph was even being taken. Her great-grandmother sat in the middle, her red hair still vibrant in the sepia tone of the photograph, with an older man on her side that Anna knew from the portrait that dominated the main foyer of the paper.

"That's Albert Smith, my grandfather." Gran pointed to the older man. "My mother, Gwen, is in the middle. On her right is her older sister Anna."

"Yes it is." John's soft whisper struck Anna to her core as she watched his fingers trace a face she was sure he could remember under his fingers. "She looked so beautiful that night."

"That was the last night of her life." Gran sighed, her fingers interlacing and landing on her lap. Anna reached over to cover her hands as her grandmother's voice choked. "You don't often get to see the last moments people shared with those they loved."

Anna flicked her gaze to the last man in the picture and wondered if the sensation was her stomach dropping to the floor. In a photograph, browned and yellow with age and over a hundred years old, sat the very man propped on the sofa with her. John Doe, the man who fixed her car, was John Bates… the man who stole her great-great-aunt's heart and heard her last words before vanishing.

The face, unchanged by time and tide, only differed in expression. In the photograph his smile broke over his face and he could not tear his eyes away from the woman sitting next to him. On the sofa, tears pricked his eyes and the weight of a sorrow Anna could only identify but not feel, sat the very same man.

"My mother told me all about her sister when I was young." Gran's voice broke through the moment, taking her hands from Anna's and nodding toward John's. Anna frowned and Gran nodded again so Anna reached for John's free hand. He jumped when she touched him but wrapped her fingers with his, smiling at her before turning to Gran.

"What did she tell you?"

"She told me about the man who broke into the house when Anna Smith was the only one home and left with nothing but her heart." Gran smiled, "I always loved the story."

"Why?" John frowned, his finger holding the photograph so tightly that Anna had to extract it from his grip and take his other hand in hers.

"Because then she'd tell me how he swooped in to save her from some horrible woman and brought her up to the lake." Gran sighed, "My mother would never go into the greenhouse after that night."

"There's no greenhouse up there Gran." Anna shrugged, "I searched and searched for that thing but it doesn't exist."

"A lot of things exist even though we can't find them with our eyes, Anna."

"She died in the greenhouse." John murmured and both women faced him. His eyes were still on the photograph, focusing on the laughing face with the dazzling smile. "I carried her there because Gwen thought that True Love's Kiss on the fairy bed she made would save her sister from consumption."

"There was nothing to be done." Gran shook her head, rubbing her palms over her knees as Anna continued to stroke over John's hands. "The doctors never gave her much time anyway."

"Consumption's not what killed her." John's voice brought Gran's head up as Anna remained silent, stroking John's hands almost on instinct now. "My old boss killed her."

"How could that be true when…" Gran bit her lip, as if nervous to go on, but as Anna looked between the two of them she blinked at a memory that was not hers.

"You were the one there." Anna faced John, his eyes going wide at her comment. "It was after the ball on New Year's Eve and you two were together. She couldn't breathe and you tried to get her down there to help her but… But you couldn't."

"I tried everything." John grasped Anna's hands tighter and she returned the gesture. "I wanted to do everything I could but there wasn't anything-"

"I know. I know you tried to save m-" Anna stopped, shaking herself as if to separate the images taking over her brain. "You tried to save her."

"My mother never saw you again, after the funeral." Gran interrupted them and Anna instinctively dropped John's hands, clasping hers together on her lap as if to distract herself from the roil of emotions crashing through her. "She told me she made sure you had the ring you used to propose to her sister but that you just vanished."

"I did vanish." John dug into his shirt, pulling out a chain where a ring hung. He manipulated it to hold to the light as Anna snatched the photograph and held it up to the ring. When it matched she dropped the photograph to the table and stood up in a rush.

"Excuse me."

Anna hurried through the kitchen to the back terrace, walking into the freezing garden with her hands on her hips as she tried to breathe normally. Her vision blurred and she saw the garden as if with two eyes. One eye showed her moments from her childhood, playing there with friends and her parents, and her grandmother as if the world was right. The other eye showed her similar images but her clothes were wrong, there was a redheaded girl and an older man who always intimidated her from the foyer portrait, and she could only watch the scene instead of participating.

Shaking herself, grabbing a handful of snow packed onto the wooden railing of the deck, Anna put it on her neck but dropped it immediately as she recalled doing the same thing to John. The same John she only met that morning but seemed to know from a lifetime ago. The John who had been so giddy at the Christmas Eve Ball she never attended… A giddiness she had at New Year's Eve.

Collapsing into a chair, Anna tried to speak but her chest constricted and she forced herself to breathe. Someone knocked on the glass of the door and Anna turned her head up to confront John, standing so quickly she knocked the chair back to clatter on the deck. His eyebrows raised, hand shaking as he used his hold on the door to support himself, and coughed before speaking.

"Are you alright?"

"I was murdered." Anna put a hand to her chest and then shook her head. "No, I'm here, right now. The other Anna… she was murdered."

John frowned, risking a step closer to her. "What?"

"When you were at the Christmas Eve Ball, you were drugged with something. It made you exuberant and obnoxiously giddy, yes?"

He nodded slowly, working himself down onto a dry patch of a chair. "I remember feeling like all the lights were excessively bright and… Something else. It's all foggy since it's still patchy in general but I remember that."

"That's what I… _She_ had happen." Anna paced the snow, hands going to her hair as she wore a path in the drift. "She had… She drank the champagne and then it was like the world exploded. She was so excited and wanted to get you…"

Anna stopped, her mouth forming a circle as she struggled with words to explain what she knew as the man across from her only stared. "She wanted to get you naked."

"Oh." John's face, in the shadow of the door, reddened. "That's rather flattering."

"You don't remember?"

"Not enough but I already regret not remembering more of it."

Anna stopped, dropping her hands to her sides, and let her whole body shake her frustration. "What were you? To her? To each other?"

"I loved her with my whole soul." John met Anna's eyes, his fingers gently manipulating the ring around his neck as if the meaning of it changed for him with each touch. Like it might help bring back his memories because they were tied to it. "From the moment I met her I knew she was all I could ever want. And it made no sense, we weren't in a position to love one another, and I wasn't what her father wanted at first but none of that stopped me. She was all I ever wanted in the world."

"Did she want you?"

John nodded, "Everything she said told me she did. From the moment she didn't call the police and sat me down to tea instead…"

Anna pulled her arms around herself, holding tightly as if to ground herself in the reality of her own existence, and spoke. "Why do I remember you?"

"I'm sorry?"

She pointed behind her, toward the garden. "I played here, as a child. With my parents and grandparents until my parents and grandfather all died in the same car accident. I remember those memories like I remember facts about a car engine. But when I look here now, after meeting you, I remember other memories. I remember another father and a sister I don't have."

"Her memories." John pushed himself to stand, walking toward her but Anna took a step back. "I'm sorry if I-"

"No," Anna waved her hands, bending down to look at John's leg. "How are you walking on this?"

"What?" John took a step back and almost jumped as his leg did not bend with pain. "How's that-"

"That would be me." Both of them jumped at the sight of a homeless man emerging from the shadows. Anna almost jumped as John's arm wrapped her, forcing her behind him as if to protect her, but the man only raised his hands. "I don't mean you any harm."

"So you hide in the shadows like a coward?"

The man hung his head, nodding. "I've been many things and that's something I've been more than the rest."

"Who are you?" Anna stepped around John, squinting in the darkness as the man came nearer and pulled his beanie back to better expose his face. When she took stalk of the face with the icy blue eyes, Anna could only raise a finger at him. "You! You're Thomas Barrow, the one who-"

"Drugged the drinks." He nodded, crunching the beanie between his hands before pulling the glove off his right hand to hold it up to the light. "I paid the price for what I did."

"With your hand?" John's lip curled up, "What does that even mean?"

"I'm sure, as time passes, more of your memories will return and you'll remember that Vera had a long reach." John shuddered and Anna put a hand on his shoulder, as if on instinct, but withdrew it quickly. "When you fully remember her then you'll know she's already hunting for you."

"Why?"

"Because you both escaped her." Thomas took a breath as he pointed between the two of them. "She wants to snuff out your lights."

"Why?" Anna took her turn at the word, shivering as the cold seeped through her extremities. "What are we to her?"

"Those who escaped her clutches and her boss isn't the forgiving type." Thomas covered his hand again. "What I did, back then, was because I owed her a favor. She did something for me and I thought it was a one-for-one deal. I didn't realize that it would mean my soul and I've paid for it as long as you have."

"You didn't lose the love of your life." John snapped at him but Thomas only hung his head.

"I did. He died in my arms the way she died in yours." Thomas met John's eyes, "But, did you really lose her?"

"What do you mean?"

Thomas pointed to Anna and she stepped back. "Her light is there."

"What the hell does that even mean?" Anna slammed her hand on the railing, scattering snow and shooting cold through her skin. "What's all this crap about light?"

"Light lies in each of us. It's the basis of our existence and we spend our lives either spreading our lights and helping spread others or we're extinguishing them." Thomas motioned about them. "Vera's on the side trying to extinguish light from the world and destroying hope so the world is dark."

"When did I fall into a bad television program?" Anna ground her palms against her forehead, pulling back and into her hair as if the motion might scrub her life back in order. "Are you saying I'm the reincarnated spirit of my great-great-aunt?"

"It's not that simple."

"Then make it that way, please, because I'm at the end of a rope that's a whole hell of a lot shorter than I thought it was."

Thomas took a moment, sucking the insides of his cheeks as if to give himself time to think, and then responded. "When Anna Smith died a hundred years ago, she used her light to save John Bates from dying. It protected him when he fell from the bridge and hit the ice to crash into the water. A move that, according to physics, should've killed him."

"But she saved him?"

"There's a lot of good will that goes into the unspoken prayers for those we love that God honors because He loves us." Thomas shrugged, "It's just how He works."

"But Anna died." John interrupted, "How is that fair?"

"We're all going to die, that's life. It's what gives meaning to existence." Thomas waited, his voice cracking when he spoke again. "If there wasn't an end to it then it wouldn't mean anything."

"So then why am I remembering things that never happened to me?" Anna slapped a hand to her chest. "Why am I remembering the life of another Anna Smith?"

"Because you carry her light."

"I'm reincarnated?"

"No, you're just helping her find peace. Like a proxy or a stand-in." Thomas turned to John, "What I did, to you and the other Anna, is unforgivable. I acted like a coward and sought my own happiness over that of another so I'm not here to ask you forgive me. I'm here to tell you that what I did sped up the inevitable but Anna Smith was going to die of consumption either way."

"She didn't have to die like that."

"And she might've died with Vera's claws in her throat so I guess we decide what would be worse." Thomas managed a step closer to them before dissolving into wracking coughs.

"What's wrong with you?" Thomas held up his hand as if it would answer Anna's question. "I don't understand."

"When I spiked Anna's drink the first time she gave it to John, to steady his nerves, and it drugged him. Vera found out about the mix-up and when I claimed I'd done my part and it wasn't my concern any longer, she clawed through my sin and poisoned me. I've been slowly losing my soul to her poison for the last hundred years."

"And then you spiked my… _Her_ drink?" Anna closed her eyes, forcing her thoughts to organize for only a second before they exploded over her brain over two lifetimes.

"That's right."

"Then why come to us now? Why give her those memories? Why fix my leg?" John tested it again, stepping toward Thomas. "Why even bother with us?"

"Because if you can defeat Vera then maybe we can all have a bit of peace." Thomas coughed, spitting into the snow to clear his mouth. "If she's gone then she can't ruin your lives or the lives of anyone else."

"And what's in it for you?" Anna ignored John and stated at Thomas.

"Redemption, I hope."

"So you're not in this just out of the goodness of your heart?" Anna folded her arms over her chest. Partly as a defense and partly to try and keep herself heated.

"Very few people do things out of the goodness of their hearts. I'm not perfect, never have been, but this is what I can do to help mend some of the damage I caused."

"How will you do that?" John kept his position as Thomas stepped away from them. "What could you do to even begin to fix what you've done?"

"By telling you to remember that light's your most powerful ally." Thomas pointed toward the sky, "Even the stars'll help you if you need a place to find aid when you really need it."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John called after him but Thomas only nodded toward both of them and vanished.

Anna said nothing, rubbing her hands over her arms before reaching to grab John's closest one. "Come on, before we freeze out here."

"This used to be the only way she'd stay cold enough." John turned with Anna, running his finger in a bit of snow so it fell off the railing and made holes in the snow piled on the deck. "I told her once I'd help her melt all the snow in the world."

"You did for as long as you could." Anna tugged him toward the door. "Come on. I don't keep heat like that and I'm freezing."

John followed her inside, waiting as she closed the doors, and stood close when they finally faced one another again. Neither spoke, just staring at one another, and he raised a tentative finger to brush a bit of hair away from her face. Anna shivered, the conflict of the cold of his finger meeting the rush of heat at his touch. He paused and waited until she put her hand over his to continue his trek.

"Who are we?" He muttered, making his way almost imperceptibly closer. "What are we supposed to be to each other?"

"I don't know." Anna took the next step for herself, the fight inside her as if two personalities attempted to exert dominance. "But I want to find out."

In the next moment their lips met, crashing together, and Anna could only hang on for dear life.


	18. Tears and Fears

John backed Anna into the wall, holding her between it and his body as their cold fingers met the heating skins of their faces in an attempt for each to control the kiss. But as their tongues tangled back and forth and their fingers flurried, there was nothing to be done but rise the rolling tide that ebbed and flowed in its control between the two of them. Each motion more turbulent and satisfying than the last.

In his mind he convinced himself he could tell the difference. He could see the woman before him as a product of her time and felt the same rush he experienced from the garage when their conversation rolled seamlessly from one conversation to the next. But he lied to himself. For each kiss they exchanged was also one with an Anna his heart remembered but his mind struggled to comprehend.

Each flick of her fingers across his skin reminded him of her. Of the touches they shared in private and in public. The way she breathed even tricked his mind into believing he was back with the same Anna who loved him from the moment they met. The same Anna who stood up to Vera and-

John stopped them, pulling back for a moment to stare at Anna. Her cheeks flushed with their exertion and the residual cold while her eyes widened when their kiss stopped. She stared back at him, her chest rising and falling to push against his own, and let her hand rest over his heart when it fell from holding his face.

He covered her hand with his, feeling the delicate fingers with different callouses. Callouses born of work she could do in a world where she did not live under the fear of consumption. Callouses that marked her as a woman vastly different from the one who lived in his heart even when his mind failed to remember her.

"Do you see me?" His fingers tightened over hers as she whispered the question to him in the dark kitchen. "Are you seeing me right now?"

"Are you only you?"

"I don't know." Anna's eyes flicked down for a moment, her fingers flexing in his grip. "I don't know why I feel the way I do about you when I barely know you. We're nothing to each other and yet I feel like you're everything to me. I don't know you and at the same time I feel like I've known you my entire life."

"I know." John scrunched his eyes closed, resting his forehead on hers. "I don't have any answers for you. I only know that, for right now, no matter what or who we are to each other I want you."

"Consequences be damned then." Anna's fingers crunched in his shirt and tugged him forward so their lips met again.

This time they did not stop. John followed Anna's led as she guided them through the darkening house and up the stairs. They almost stumbled but Anna caught them with a hand behind her, John's knocking against the banister as he tried to find his balance. A creak from above them raised both their heads to pause but the soft rustling shuffle of Anna's grandmother disappeared like the light from the corridor.

They moved a bit more carefully after that, Anna breaking their kiss to lead John up the stairs with her hand wrapping tightly around his. But he could not bear the separation. Residual pains from his angelically healing leg all but forgotten, he pressing Anna to the wall to kiss her all over again with their hands seeking purchase in the folds of clothing but only succeeding in pulling and tugging at one another as if trying to figure out the basic function of clothing.

John's hands moved from her hair, falling from its carefully constructed position, to her neck to her shoulders to her breasts and finally to settle on her waist. Her own arms looped around his neck and wove into his hair, grasping there when one of his hands managed the basic flip of the catch to her trousers. The material opened for him and John glided over the silken material of her knickers.

Anna almost moaned into the darkness of the corridor but John stopped her with his lips on hers. She tried to raise her leg over his hip but the fall of his trousers, with his fingers still sliding enticingly over her knickers to slip lower and lower. His momentary pause, as his mind struggled to comprehend the multitude of thoughts and worries about this exact moment, ended when Anna's hand wrapped around his wrist and guided him forward.

His fingers, rusty from years of only ever tending the needs of mechanical objects, tripped over her with all the hesitation of a man with every reservation anyone had ever experienced in the hundred-year interim. The sounds Anna tried to hide in his mouth and then against his ear offered him the confidence he needed but his fingers still trembled against her. He finally broke away from her mouth, kissing down her neck and over her blouse to reach the slip of skin available with her trousers opened.

She pressed toward his mouth, one hand buried in his hair and the other reaching back to hold onto the dipped ridges of the wall behind her. John used one hand to hold her hip in place as his tongue took more initiative than his fingers managed but gained confidence with each of Anna's soft keens. His fingers stroked over her, using her knickers to his advantage as the motion dragged the fabric over her sensitive nerves, and finally slipped between the elastic to touch her skin.

The dig of her nails into the back of his head had John sucking at her skin to reach her clit through her knickers. Her shoulders and head knocked against the wall, her teeth worrying her lip almost hard enough to bleed as the skin went white under the strain of her jaw, and John let the smile take over his face before lowering his mouth to suck at her again. Anna bucked against him and John risked losing his supporting hold on her hip to pull her knickers down to expose her to him.

Whatever memories he might have overlapped and confused him as he took the moment to look at her. But his muscles remembered what his mind could not sort through and instinct drove him to bring his mouth back to her clit as his fingers stretched and explored her folds. Motions that ground her hips against his mouth and forced his fingers to slip inside her.

With her sounds in his ears and fingers almost clawing at his head, John followed each note until his third finger entered her. The crook to his fingers and the wrapping motion he managed around her nerves with his tongue sent her over the edge. Her knees went weak and only John's weight against her legs kept her standing. The taste of her coated his tongue and he lapped up everything he could as her nails finally released their grip on his head.

John let his hands caress the skin of her thighs, going to help her replace her knickers and trousers but the hands so recently making a permanent place on his head landed on his wrists. He looked up as Anna managed one shake of her head and gently pushed him back. An awkward crab-like shuffle back on the carpet allowed him an unfettered view as Anna kicked herself free of her heels and stepped out of both trousers and knickers so she stood half-naked in the corridor.

Giving him a fantastic view of her bare ass, Anna dipped to collect her things and nodded her head toward one of the doors in the hall. He skidded on his knees, in a hurry to stand, and almost tripped himself onto his face as he followed her through the open door. And the moment the door closed, it was him pressed against its surface as Anna drove herself onto him.

Even with a hundred years to adapt to fashions and develop a finesse for clothing himself, John wondered if he lost all abilities in a single moment. His sweater hit the floor, his shirt landing on top of it so Anna's fingers could trace over him and lose herself in hair on another part of his body. John's fingers worried the buttons on her blouse and pulled them loose so he could finally feel all the skin from her hips to her bra. A bra she left on the floor after opening his jeans for him.

It was an eternity. It was an instant. It was heaven when their skin met.

Her legs parted enough for his fingers to tease back inside her and she jumped up at his wordless bid. Even with the slight limp, and an almost stumble, they managed to land on her bed with Anna spread out under him. John's lips sought every part of her skin yet unkissed or unlicked or unloved while Anna's hands mapped him as if she worked for a global positioning service. And they brought out matching groans from one another when John's lips settled on adoring her breasts and her hand wrapped over his erection.

In less time than it took to think over the particulars, Anna's legs were around his hips and he thrust himself inside. The shock of the moment flashed images of every time he did this with Anna before, of all the moments they shared in the chill tent of hers on top of the house by the lake. He looked down, expecting to see a face lit by a brazier and red from the flush of exertion and the fever. Instead he saw only the blue-gray glow room the darkened room wreathing the woman under him. The woman who lifted her hips to slide him deeper inside her.

"Be here." Her words were quiet enough that John wondered if he said them in his mind. But her eyes promised him that she said them and the dig of her heel into his leg while her nails found a new purchase in the flesh of his ass told him she meant what she said. And it only took the gentle tug of her fingers in his hair to bring their lips back together.

They moved together, finding a rhythm after a few false starts and broken kisses that ended entirely when John left them over her neck to return to her breasts. Her hands roamed his back, leaving his hair a mess and his body a track mark of scars and scratches when he tilted his hips just enough to hit the spot inside her that arched her neck and back in one solid move. Every gasp and groan drove them closer until John wondered if two people could crawl into one another's skin as they came together.

Harsh breaths filled John's ears as he settled his weight on his forearms around her head, trying to keep his weight off her. But Anna tugged him closer, burying her head in the crook of his neck until he felt the tears there. John pulled back, adjusting them so they laid facing one another and he could brush away a tear tracking its way down her cheek. He did not speak, waiting until Anna's sobs calmed and she finally risked a word.

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" His thumb brushed at her tears, the shine on her cheeks reflecting the white light from the lamps on the street and proving the inverse match to the shine they left on other parts of their bodies. "They're just tears."

"It's not that." Anna drove her palm over her face, forcing a tear away from her as their eyes met. "Who did you think I was, just now?"

John almost went to wipe away another tear but stopped himself, choosing instead to brush a strand of her hair away from her head to join the tangle mass they made to hang at the back of her neck. "I don't know."

"That's why I'm crying." Anna sniffed, going to move but stopping when John's hand rested on her shoulder. "Because I don't know either."

"Does it matter?" John paused, "Did you not-"

"I wanted it." Anna hurried to stop him, her hand taking her earlier position on his chest. "I wanted this. I just… I didn't realize it'd be so hard to separate what I want from whatever 'she' might've wanted."

John nodded, his head shifting on the pillow under him. "I saw you both. It was like reliving memories I forgot I had while wanting to be in this moment with all I was. I saw her and I saw you. It was both of you in different ways."

"But I'm not her." Anna let her hand drop from his chest, tangling for a second in his fingers. "I'm not dying. I'm not fragile. And I'm here, right now."

"I know that."

"But I also feel all those things." Anna grabbed his hand, as if to show him. "I remember holding your hand in the snow, walking through it as you promised to help me melt it while also teaching me to calm my heart. I remember dancing with you around the terrace in the blistering cold that helped keep my fever down. And I remember closing my eyes for the last time when you were the last thing I saw."

She dropped his hand, "I remember that but it wasn't me and that's what scares me. I don't know who I was just now and I pushed us to something I don't think we're ready to handle."

"Maybe not." John let his hand follow the profile of her body, skimming over her skin until he traced the dips and valleys from her hips back to the crux of her thighs. "But I couldn't leave you now."

"Because I'm her to you?"

"Because you're you to me." John's fingers urged her legs to open and Anna maneuvered herself forward enough to take his fingers inside her again. "Because you do look like the woman I promised to love until the end of my life. Because you look like the woman who intrigued me when I still didn't know who I was. Because you remind me of the same woman who wore the ring around my neck for far too short a time. Because you and I can make each other happy."

With every explanation his hands did their job. His fingers and thumb pressed and rubbed and loved her folds and clit until she writhed under his attentions. His other hand kneaded and traced over her skin to find those places she trembled and flinched to bring her voice out in keening whimpers. And finally helped her fall over the edge again.

"Because I want to spend the rest of my life," John urged her closer to him and Anna followed the direction of his hand to slip her leg over his hip. "Bringing these sounds out of you."

"That's not a promise to love me to the end of your life." Anna settled close to where his arousal rose again, running herself over him with each twist of her hips and grind of her body against him. "Would you make me that promise?"

"Could you?" John stopped them, his hands on her hips and hers on his chest as their eyes met. "Could you say, right now, that you'd love me until the end of your life?"

Anna did not answer with words. Instead, she rose up on her knees and positioned John under her so when she sank down he went as deep inside her as he could go. His eyes fluttered closed at the tight wrap of her muscles around him and his fingers dug into her hips to hold himself still until she chose to move.

And she moved the moment their lips met. Her hand lifted at the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers, and held him there as her hips bobbed and rocked against his. He put a hand behind him, holding him up as his other hand kept a solid grip on her hip to meet each of her motions with deep drives into her.

They only broke apart to breathe but John took the cue to suck at her breasts again. Anna wrapped her legs tighter around him, sliding up and down his length with increasing speed as the arm she had over his shoulders kept her close enough to leave little room for her hand to slip between them and stroke along her clit. But the slip and glide of her fingers over the slick wet there brushed against John and he thrust harder into her.

It was all they could take as they both broke and went to kiss one another again but lost the energy so they only rested their foreheads together. The finishing quivers of their bodies, stutters and jerks as they tried to disentangle themselves, left them laying back on the bed without words. In the dark John reached for Anna's hand and their fingers interlaced.

"I could love you for the rest of my life." He finally managed, speaking as much to the darkness as to her. "I'm just afraid."

"Of what?" The only indication she paid him any mind came with the tense jerk of her fingers against his.

"Vera. If she's out there, like Thomas said, then she won't let me rest any better this time than she did last time."

"I'm not dying the way your other Anna did."

"No but there are other ways she can get to us." John finally turned his head, managing a little smile when his eyes and Anna's met. "I couldn't bear to lose you the way I lost her."

"You don't even know me."

"I know that much." John pulled their joined hands up, kissing over her fingers and knuckles. "I don't want to underestimate what she'd do again."

"We could always run away from her."

"I did that last time and she still got to us." John blinked, "I didn't mean-"

"I know what you meant." Anna unwove their fingers, placing a kiss of her own on John's palm before maneuvering to get herself under the covers on the bed and offering him the other side. "And I say we confront that when we have to."

"I think we should confront it now."

"And do what about it now?" Anna settled herself to face him, her hands digging under her pillow. "What can we do?"

"Find her first?"

"I'm not sure it's wise to confront the demon in her lair." Anna closed her eyes, letting her fingers find his again. "For now, let this be enough."

"But-"

Anna put her finger over John's mouth, shushing him. "Whatever we've been through, in this life or the last one, or the life you shared with your other Anna, it's been enough. We've suffered enough for now so let's just let this night be enough. Can't you grant us that?"

John kissed Anna's finger and then moved it enough to reach forward and kiss her lips before he pulled back. They did not speak any more. They just lay there, staring at one another, until they both drifted off.

* * *

Vera paced her office, nail tapping against her teeth. The steady thud of her movements droned out her thoughts until all Vera could do was pace back and forth. A knock at the door barely registered until the knock repeated, louder. She seized the letter opener from her desk and hurled it at the door so it buried itself deeply in the wood there as it opened.

Sampson ducked his head, noting the close encounter he barely managed to miss. With a swallow he entered the room, holding up his hands as one of them kept curled fingers around some papers, Sampson went to speak. "I've found something."

"About?"

"Well that girl you had Thomas bump off at the beginning of the last century had a sister. A little redhead snip who grew up and inherited her father's paper company."

Vera raised an eyebrow, drumming her fingers on the glass top of her desk. "What do I care about a newspaper or the redhead who inherited it?"

"That's just it." Sampson let his hands drop, shuffling through the papers. "See, she had a daughter, who had a son, who had a daughter."

"If there's a point to all this-"

"This is her." Sampson pulled a printout from the pile, holding it toward Vera so she could snatch it from his fingers. "She's set to inherit the company for herself when her grandmother passes."

"Not her father?"

"He died when she was nine. Car accident killed the grandfather and both of the girl's parents." Sampson snorted, "She's named 'Anna'. Imagine the lack of imagination in that."

"Or the fortune." Vera held the paper, turning on her heel to complete another circuit before returning to Sampson and flipping the paper so the image of Anna Smith turned toward him. "Where is she now?"

"Lives with her grandmother in the house Albert Smith built. And, bad news for Ms. Smith," Sampson held another paper toward Vera. "Her grandmother's dying of something pretty nasty. Radiation and chemotherapy aren't doing it anymore and she'll bit the big one before next Christmas. That'll leave Ms. Smith as sole inheritor of her family's fortune, company, and properties."

"How is that helpful?" Vera tossed the papers back at Sampson. "What do I care about the financial status of this bitch? I only care if John's found her. She looks enough like the last little pixie he fell for to make it seem almost too good to be true."

"Based on her credit card," Sampson dug through the papers again to check his facts, "She just had her car serviced at that garage right on top of where the River People used to make their camps."

"He was always one for consistency." Vera pursed her lips, going toward the large glass windows again. "He was dead and now he's not. Her love saved him from death and yet I couldn't find him until yesterday. Why is that?"

"Maybe he had to get his memory back?" Sampson's voice rang through Vera's mind. "Maybe he had to remember who he was?"

"Maybe." Vera pivoted, walking in a hurry toward her coat and practically ripping it from the back of her chair to shove her arms through it. "Bring up my car. I want to pay a little visit to the house that Albert Smith built."


	19. Fought for Men's Souls

Anna opened her eyes, a shiver running through her body as fingers trailed across her back. She went to turn but a depression in the mattress had John's chest pressed against her back and his fingers moving from her back to her hip and then toward her legs. His nonsensical patterns worked over her thighs as kisses dotted her shoulders and neck. Another hand slowly worked through her hair, untangling it a strand at a time in the most gentle of caresses that left Anna relaxed and soothed in his hold.

That relaxation vanished as his fingers tickled and teased at her clit and her folds. Her leg lifted and John quickly slotted his between hers so he could access her. Each brush against opened her further so her leg draped back over his hip and John could work his fingers deeper and deeper. Every slip was a slick slide that Anna could hear. She tried to clench her muscles around him, keeping his fingers in place as they struggled against the stranglehold of her vaginal walls and inevitably slipped free to brush and rub and taunt against her sensitive nerves. Nerves sparking and shooting until Anna had to bury her release in the pillow near her.

She quivered in his arms, responding on instinct when John slid his erection along her. The head bumped and brushed against where his fingers retreated to her clit and Anna wrapped an arm back to pull John's head from where he kissed and sucked at her neck. He did not push forward, did not move until she adjusted herself. Then, their eyes meeting for the first time, they moved together and did not stop until they could move no further.

Anna tipped her head back to kiss him, finally releasing sounds she tried to keep down so her grandmother did not have to know exactly what was going on in her room. At this point it would not be a surprise but Anna did not want to give her grandmother any more reason to grin or smirk across the table in the morning. Knowing John spent the night was preferable to her knowing that John helped her orgasm five times and was going for round six.

From her position there was only so far she could maneuver, only so far she could move to try and reach the high she wanted. The high her already tempted her to once but the one she wanted them to reach together. Even with as tight as their positions made it, with as deeply as he went, with as much as it set her blood boiling and her nerves afire, Anna wanted more.

Her hand moved from his neck, pulling at his shoulder to twist them over so he lay stretched against her back. They shuffled and jerked, moving with less grace than Anna imagined but when John positioned himself behind her and she found support on her hands and knees, it did not matter. Each drive sent him deep inside and Anna clawed at her pillows in an attempt to meet him stroke for stroke.

Thrusting herself back on him, arching into the enjoyment of his hands running over her back, holding her hips, teasing at her clit, or kneading her breasts until she broke. In that moment of blinding enjoyment she felt him drag back and bury himself a final time.

They collapsed. Anna could hardly breath, air fighting to stay in her lungs as her body stripped each bit of it trying to find enough energy not to react to the way black prickled at the edges of her vision. But as John's arm landed over her waist she pulled the fingers between her own to hold him close to her. His chest pressed against her back with each deep inhale and the thunder of his heart reverberated through her chest. But it settled them and soon they breathed together as their hearts synchronized.

Anna blinked, the urge to faint or sleep fighting against her desire to remain awake. And eventually she beat back the instinct, gliding free of John's hold as his breathing eased into the deeper inhales of slumber. She pulled a pair of sweatpants over her retrieved knickers and worked into a shirt before tiptoeing from the room.

Leaving the door cracked, Anna padded down the hall to the stairs. Years of learning the creaks and crawls of the house had her avoiding loose boards, betraying carpet catches, and the elusive corners that threatened her on the edges of her movements. But she made it to the kitchen without a noise from the rest of the house and set the kettle to boil.

There, in the darkness of the kitchen, she remembered the table differently. She recalled a different stove, new by the standards of that day, where she used a similar kettle to boil water for an uninvited guest. And when Anna turned to the table, folding her arms over her chest and dancing a bit on her toes as she forgot the chill of the kitchen tile, she imagined she could see the scene.

John sat on the edge of his seat, fingers dancing nervously over the tabletop, but shared a drink of the tea her great-great-aunt could not consume. A moment was all they needed and yet… Anna shook it away, digging in the cupboard for a mug and the tea until she stopped.

A noise, but barely that, rapped against the wooden front door. Anna withdrew her hand slowly from the cupboard, turning down the heat on the kettle so the sound of the gas barely reached her ears. Ears that then pricked to hear the gentle knock again. A knock that ran her blood cold.

Moving from the kitchen, dipping briefly into the hall closet to extract an old metal softball bat from a mistaken endeavor in high school, Anna went to the front door. She peeked through the frosted glass and made out two figures but a quick check to the large clock in the hall told her it was far too early for anyone to be dropping in for a call. Keeping the bat just out of sight next to the door, Anna opened it a crack to see a man and woman there.

Both seemed to blink and flit in her vision as if her brain needed to confirm they're presence. And something in her went off like warning bells at the sight of the woman. As if they had a rather public and excruciating encounter but her face fritzed and swam before Anna's eyes as no features were particularly detailed.

"Can I help you?" Anna wrapped her hand more securely around the rubber grip on the bat as the woman's face broke into a leering smile that sent ice down Anna's spine and put her on her toes.

"As a matter of fact you can." She snapped her fingers, holding them out to the man next to her. He whipped a paper from a file and within a second of the paper even tempting to touch on the woman's hand she had it turned and facing Anna. "We're looking for this man and hoping you could help us find him."

Anna frowned and turned from the nondescript woman and man to the picture. She blinked and tried to focus but the paper appeared blank. With a swallow, Anna turned to the woman.

"I'm sorry, there's nothing on this piece of paper. Was there something you wanted to show me?"

The woman froze a moment, her nails crumpling into the paper that she threw back at the man, and flicked her gaze toward it before turning back to Anna. "Are you sure you saw nothing there?"

"I know what blank paper looks like. I've stared at a lot of empty Word documents." Anna shifted in the doorway, pulling it a bit more closed to making sure the carpet would not catch if she needed to throw it closed at a moment's notice. "Who are you?"

"We're searching for a rather dangerous man who was last seen in this area." The woman took a breath, "A man who calls himself John Bates."

Anna's hand slipped on the door and she only caught herself by grabbing the door handle on her side as the bat slid on the floor. "Who?"

"Don't play coy with us Ms. Smith, we know you've seen him."

"I've not seen a man named John Bates as it's not a description, it's a name." Anna went to shut the door but the woman's hand stopped it. "If there's anything else, please come back at normal visiting hours. It's way too early for this."

"In other circumstances I'd agree with her." The woman took a step forward, filling Anna's vision as her nails lengthened to dig into the wood of the door. "But since I've not slept well for the past two days I'd say now's the best time to settle this for good and proper."

Anna blinked and everything came into focus. This was Vera. The same woman who tried to murder her… no, tried to murder Anna Smith from a hundred years ago outside this very house. The woman who replaced a driver and followed them through town until John had taken a risk and driven onto the ice to the house she could not reach. The woman who manipulated an angel to the point of poisoning his blood just to kill that Anna.

The woman who now towered over her as if given two feet of darkness as her platform. Anna held her breath, waiting for her heartbeat to normalize but when it did not she just cleared her throat and spoke on a wavering voice that solidified the longer she went. "Whatever business you have, do it elsewhere."

"I want John Bates and I don't care who I have to go through to get him."

"Then you'll be shit out of luck because he's not here." Vera blinked and took a step back, her figure shrinking as Anna held her ground and her lie. "There was a man, named John Doe, that a friend of mine hit with a car but he's since been taken to hospital. Go and check Metro General and you'll find him there with a broken leg."

"You brought a stranger with a broken leg into your home?" Vera snorted, her hand leaving the door, gouge marks still there. "How trusting."

"He fixed my car and I felt a bit responsible." Anna braced against the doorway, "Is there anything else you need?"

"No, that's enough." Vera paused, her eyes narrowing. "You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

"I could ask you the same question." Anna shrugged, "I guess you'll just have to trust that I'm telling the truth."

"Should I?"

"That's up to you." Anna nodded at them, "Have a nice day now."

The door almost shut but a hand stopped it again. Anna sighed, scowling at Vera through the crack. "This isn't a trick I find particularly funny."

"Then you'll not like what I have to say next." She leaned forward, her whisper almost a slither against Anna's ear. "If you are hiding John Bates here, then it won't end well for you."

"Is this man you're looking for some kind of fugitive?" Anna pulled back, fighting the urge to rub her ear against her shoulder to try and get the sensation of something disgusting climbing into the canal to leave. "Or a dangerous psychopath?"

"He's something to me and that's all you need to know."

Anna bit the insides of her cheeks, layers of emotions from herself and the woman who once faced down Vera just ten feet from their position engulfing her. "I'm sure it's not a good something."

"How'd you figure?"

"Something about you just makes my skin crawl." Anna swallowed, "Whatever business you have with this man you're looking for, I'd prefer if you left me out of it."

"Are you in it?"

"No." Anna sighed, shaking her head. "I've got no skin in whatever game you're playing and it's nothing to me. Whoever John Bates is, he's nothing to me."

Vera stared at her another moment before nodding. "I believe you."

"Believe what you want." Anna nodded at the door. "Can I close it or do you want to start this game all over again?"

"I'll leave." Vera took a step back, waving the man behind her. "But I'd like to leave you with a final thought."

"To call you if I see the man you've not even described to me?"

"That it'd be a shame for your grandmother to succumb faster to whatever cancer's already ravaging her body if she could be saved."

Anna frowned, "I beg your pardon?"

"There are cures to what your grandmother has." Vera rubbed two fingers together, the nails grating enough to send a shiver down Anna's spine. "It'd be a shame if you gave up a chance to get them."

"What kind of deal with what kind of devil would that take?"

"No devils and no deals." Vera gave a shrug as the man opened the door to the black car parked on the street. "There's just a place where she could be healed. A place where a fairy bed holds the magic to do it."

Anna did not react, or even speak, as Vera waved hand and got into the car. "Food for thought."

As Anna shut the door she dropped the bat to clatter to the wood. She ignored the sound, turning in place to slump against the large wooden door as her feet slid over the carpet. Landing with a thump, Anna did not move until the persistent whistle of the kettle brought her back to conscious thought. Moving in a hurry, she replaced the bat and cared for the kettle but her tea went cold on the table before her long after she thought about drinking it.

* * *

John opened his eyes and blinked himself awake in a hurry as he noticed the empty spot in bed. A quick twist around did not reveal Anna anywhere else in the room and a listen indicated there was very little activity in his immediate vicinity at all. He kicked loose of a sheet twisted around his leg and dug his clothing from the floor to get dressed.

Stepping carefully, a quick check of the clocks affirming the gray tinge to the sky was not simply an alert for incoming snow, John made his way through the house while trying to get his sweater back over his head. He reached the bottom of the stairs as he pulled his sweater down, trying to bring some control to his hair as he listened for sounds. The only one he could hear was the soft clink of porcelain from the kitchen.

He followed steps he remembered, his bare feet treading where his shoes trod a hundred years before. When he reached the door to the kitchen he pushed it open slowly, noting Anna at the table with a cup in front of her, and entered the room. She did not look up as he took the seat across from her and noted the lack of steam from the tea that coincided with the slight film settled on the surface. His hand reached across, toward the cup, and rested over where her fingers turned the cup in clockwise motions.

She looked up, her expression blank, and John let his fingers run over her knuckles. "Are you alright?"

"Of course." Anna took her hand back, her fingers holding them carefully as her gaze dropped from his. "I was just thinking."

"For some time by the looks of it." John nodded toward the cold tea, pulling at his sweater as it itched against his throat. "It's been cold for awhile."

"I couldn't sleep, thought I wanted tea, and then got distracted by thinking." Anna took a breath, as if she wanted to say something else, but stopped herself and closed her mouth.

John clicked his teeth together and spoke. "If this is about-"

"What do you remember?" Anna blinked, looking at him as she interrupted his sentence. "About your life before, what do you remember?"

"I…" John coughed, shaking his head as if that could clear his thoughts and pulling again to try and stop the sweater itching his throat. "I remember sitting at this table and drinking tea. She couldn't drink it because it was too hot and it could lead to worse problems."

"And earlier?" Anna let her finger stroke down the side of her cup, almost refusing to look at him. "Did you remember when you did those things with her?"

"Yes." John narrowed his eyes, "If this is about thinking I'm using you to replace her or because you're jealous or-"

Anna shook her head, "I'm not jealous."

"Then why-"

"It matters because I remember sharing tea with you here, seeing you sitting in that chair and drinking something I couldn't. It matters because I remembered having sex with you while I had sex with you for the first time. And I remember feelings that I don't even know are mine." Anna took a breath, "It matters because I think we're living lives that belong to people we're not. Someone you once were but aren't anymore. It matters because we're living as if we're them and we're not."

"What if we are those people?"

"Excuse me?"

"What if we are?" John stopped her, putting up a hand as she went to respond. "I know, it sounds mad but hear me out."

He waited until Anna slumped back in her seat, nodding at him to continue. With a pull to his sweater collar he reset it along his throat and tried to ignore the itch. "What if it's not reincarnation but something else?"

"What else?"

"What if the concept of light isn't just bunk? What if I can love her because she was the love of my life but also eventually love you for completely different reasons? What if you remember those things from her life because the light she left behind protected your family as well? Protected you?" John paused, watching Anna's brow furrow. "What if we're the people we're supposed to be right now because we were already those people? What you remember is part of who you are because you share that with her?"

"And that means we're supposed to be together?"

"I didn't say that." John pulled at his sweater, finally realizing his haste to get it over his head had him putting it on backwards. He pulled his arms in, turning it about himself and leaving Anna to chuckle on her side of the table. "Obviously I'm not all put together."

"You're also an hundred-plus-year-old man that gave me six more orgasms than any other man I've dated in probably five years." Anna shook her head, "I'd say we're all a bit of a mess here."

"But that doesn't mean we have to leave it as a mess." John reached for her hand again and Anna accepted it. "We can start over and be new people. We've got the capacity to build lives completely separate of the people we were or the memories we have."

"What about your old friend?" John frowned and Anna's face fell. "Vera."

"What about her?"

"She visited the house this morning." Anna tightened her fingers around John's hand when he went to move. "She's gone. She didn't even come into the house."

"Did she threaten you?"

"No, actually." Anna shook her head, "She told me that there might be a way to save my Gran."

"Save her?" John blinked, face scrunching. "Save her from what?"

"From the cancer that's killing her." Anna tugged John's hand. "She needs the fairy bed."

"That was a hundred years ago."

"And you're still here." Anna managed a little smile. "I never found it but you know where the greenhouse is. You could get us there and we could cure her."

"What if it's a trap?"

"I'd be wiling to risk that for my Gran. She's all I've got."

John sucked the inside of his cheek and nodded. "Get me up there and we'll save her."

"And then we'll deal with your crazy ex-girlfriend."

John grinned, "I like the sound of that."

* * *

Vera paced outside the door, sighing when it finally opened. "And here I thought he might not find time for me." She waited but the silent denizen said nothing. "Really? No reaction? What do I have to do so you'll even have an expression?"

The woman with the sown mouth just stepped out of her way and Vera shook her head, passing her into the darkness. It clung to her, like fingers trying to stop her progress, but Vera ignored it. Her hips hit the rail and she grabbed it with her fingers and called out to the darkness.

"Your Honor?"

"Two visits in as many days," The light sparked and Vera blinked against it as The Judge turned to her, standing up from where he organized books to pull at his green waistcoat. "I would say I was pleased by this but I've a feeling you're not here to report anything positive."

"I'm here to say that I've set a trap and-"

"It can't be sprung without my help?" The Judge sighed, walking toward the raised platform and pointing to the spot in front of it. "What is it that you want?"

Vera hurried to the spot, making sure she kept back from the line, and cleared her throat. "I, Vera, high denizen in service to Lucifer, do request for permission to go north."

"The restriction still stands." The Judge went to walk away but Vera crossed the line.

"I want to kill him, Your Honor. I want him to die, for his light to fade, and his soul to suffer in eternity. I want to wipe him and all evidence of his existence from this earth. And when I do I'll kill the woman with him and take the light I was owed a hundred years ago, with her light, and destroy them." Vera summoned the last of her energy. "I want to be the one to kill them with my bare hands."

The Judge held her gaze, unblinking, and then took a breath as his hands rested back on the railing of the rise that put him in judgment above her. "Reconsider."

"No. I've waited too long and worked to hard to have these two cock it up for me now." Vera stood ready, "I ask this with my life as collateral for my failure."

The Judge finally blinked, and nodded. "I grant your request. You can proceed north as you are no longer vested with the powers of your office. I strip you of them, your immortality, and all evidence that you were my servant. Should you succeed your banishment from the Northern Territories will be lifted and you will return to my service in higher standing. Should you fail…"

Vera waited but The Judge did not speak. "Well?"

"Should you fail you'll be scattered to the four winds and no one will remember your name. Your soul will be consigned to Hell and you'll serve out the remainder of your eternity there in suffering." The Judge leaned over the railing, "I'd suggest you not fail."

"What, can't stand to lose me?" Vera prodded at him but noted the lack of expression on the Judge's face. "Are you worried about me?"

"You get attached to people, when you've spent as long a time together as we have." The Judge pointed back to the railing. "Watch out for light, Vera. Especially starlight."

"Starlight?" Vera scoffed, "What are balls of gas burning millions of miles away to me?"

"Unpredictable." The Judge pulled the cord on the light and Vera found her way back outside in darkness.

She stepped outside and flexed her fingers, nails no longer growing. With a snort she stepped toward her car and nodded at Sampson. "Hop to it, we're going north."


	20. On the Battlefields of the Heart

Anna checked the bag and then zipped it closed, hauling it down the stairs toward the foyer as her grandmother emerged from the kitchen, eyebrow raised to sip her tea with a satisfied smirk. "Are you going on holiday so soon?"

"We all are."

"Rather soon for family outings isn't it?" Gran lowered her tea, frowning at the bags. "Did you pack for me?"

"I was up to my elbows in your knicker drawer." Anna shuddered, "Please never give me the details on the why and the wherefores of some of your stylistic choices in that regard."

"Only on the condition you tell me what the hell is going on here." Gran jumped as a knock came to the door and Anna opened it for John to enter, a small bag slung over his shoulder. "Are you moving in? Not that I would disagree with Anna finally moving forward romantically in her life but it's a little fast for something like that."

"We're not-" John turned to Anna, "Did you not tell her?"

"I've not had the chance yet." Anna faced her grandmother. "We're going north, to the house, and we're going to cure you."

"Unless John here remembers stashing a new body and something to fight aggressive cancer, I highly doubt that." Gran finished her tea, walking back toward the kitchen. "But if this is your way to insisting I don't come to a romantic weekend getaway you could've just said that you were going to continue what you did last night."

Anna exchanged a look with John before pushing after her grandmother. "As awkward as that is to know, I won't be embarrassed out of this."

"Anna," Gran opened the dishwasher, putting her mug inside it and checking the interior before starting the machine. "The best experts in the world all came to a conclusion that a collection of long life and cellular mutation is killing me. It's not something to stop and it's not something to fight. Death comes to everyone and it's nothing to fear."

"But what if there were a way? What if your mother's fairy bed exists and it could save you?"

"Then I'd say it's the waste of a miracle because there are lives with more left to them then my rickety old bones have to offer."

"But you could pass without pain."

"There's always pain with passing, Anna." Gran took her hands and Anna fought to know what to say. "However much I believe this is a fools errand, I'll go with you."

"Now you're just humoring me."

"Of course I am." Gran winked at her, kissing Anna's hands and then both of her cheeks. "I'm your grandmother and this is what I do."

Within an hour Anna had closed the trunk and looked up to see John escorting her grandmother from the house. He waved her into the car after she opened the rear door so he could help her Gran into the seat. Anna buckled herself in place, arranging the mirrors and stopped. She leaned forward, looking with narrowed eyes, and then turned full around in her seat. John noticed her eyes and she nodded out the back window.

His face fell and he hurried into his seat. "That's Vera's car."

"What? She's checking up on us?" Anna started the car as John shut his door. "I had a feeling she didn't buy my lie."

"You lied to her?"

"I tried it but I'm not a very good liar." Anna took one last cursory glance around the car. "Everyone strapped in?"

"I do hope that's not-"

Before her grandmother could finish her thought, Anna peeled the car away from the curb and sped into the street. The dark car following them sped up, chasing them down the street with an engine revving almost as loudly as Anna's. But Anna steered them through a series of traffic lanes, pulling the brake on her car to spin them down an alley to avoid a one-way street.

"Anna!" Her grandmother's face caught in the rearview mirror for a moment. "If you get pulled over you're off the insurance. I can't take another ding to my record or they'll send my premiums through the roof."

"Maybe you should've thought about that before you started your seniors-old street racing gang." Anna managed another tight turn, keeping her hand down as her foot shifted off the clutch. "I knew I shouldn't have suggested you look for more fun at your age."

"Just because you joined a drag racing team at University doesn't mean we can't all discover our passions later in life."

"I did that for money since you refused to let me at my trust until I was twenty-one." Anna almost skimmed a car as she spun them through an ice patch to beat a bus through a light. "It was necessary."

"Because there weren't any campus jobs to be had?"

"It's what got me a job as a racecar driver and you, even you, told me that's hat convinced the editor to hire me to the sports section." Anna steered onto the ramp, riding the median as she continued heading north. "And it's getting us out of the city before that car catches us."

"That could be anyone."

"It's not just anyone." John's white-knuckled hand on the dashboard had Anna risking a look to see his eyes scrunched shut and his whole body tensed.

"Are you alright?"

"I don't like speed."

"You fix cars." Anna merged over four lanes and almost dinged the back of a car as she managed another ramp. "How could you not like speed?"

"I fix them. I don't drive them. I don't even have a license." John put a hand to his chest, still not opening his eyes, "I've lived in secret for a hundred years. I can't have photo ID."

"You have a job."

"They pay me under the table. It's why I don't have insurance."

"Then we've got a lot to work out once we get rid of your crazy ex-girlfriend." Anna gunned the engine again. "When do we cross the river?"

"Almost there now." Gran leaned close to the window. "It is beautiful."

"Time and place, Gran."

"Then is now the time to mention that I haven't been in a car going this fast since the seventies?"

"There's never a time to mention that." They crossed the river and Anna looked back in her mirror. "I can't tell. Did the stop chasing us?"

John cracked an eyelid and turned in his chair. A second later he was back, shaking his head frantically and hauling in deep breaths. "They're gone. Must've run into the same problem as last time."

"Then we're all going to hope that our luck holds until we come up with another plan." Anna let the car slow marginally, gaining a place on the barren motorway heading north. "Anyone up for some music?"

* * *

John let his head tip back, gazing at the high ceiling in the foyer of the house. He set his bag down, listening to Anna and her grandmother getting the heating started over the house as they shivered in the cavernous space of the building. Shivering, he pulled his sweater down over his hands and walked to the base of the stairs. As he pulled the door to the basement open, the anxiety of the last time he was down in the basement returned.

This time he went down the steps steadily. The darkness dispelled with a flick of a switch and he saw the old boiler. Almost as if on instinct, John ran his fingers over his arms where the hints of the burns and scratches of that day still defined his skin. He walked to the mammoth piece, hearing the deep rumble as the automated system triggered it to start, and ran a hand over the surface before checking all the gauges. It sputtered and whined but after a loud belch the whole thing came to life.

With a smile John stepped back, nodding at the piece. "She was in every piece of the house."

"What?" John turned, noting Anna at the bottom of the stairs.

"What?"

"What did you say, just now?"

"It was something Mr. Smith said about the house." John gestured around the cobwebbed room. "That his wife was in every piece of the house and he couldn't bring himself to change a single part of it."

"Guess ii runs in the family." Anna folded her arms over her chest. "But I need your help to find something I hope also hasn't changed."

"Right." John followed her back up the stairs, shutting off the lights and grabbing for his coat and gloves. "It's getting dark though. Shouldn't we wait for a better time? Like when there's more light?"

"And risk your former employer finding a loophole to get herself up here? No thank you." Anna pulled on her coat, calling out for her grandmother. "Gran? Gran are you coming?"

John paused, listening. "I don't hear her."

"Maybe she's upstairs." Anna went for them but John grabbed her hand, putting a finger over his mouth as he pointed toward the front door. She frowned but he tapped his ear and then pointed again.

They tiptoed toward the door, John putting his ear to it and then grabbing Anna as she went to leave the house. She fought him but he put a hand over her mouth and dragged her toward the rear of the house. With a wrench, she got loose as soon as they reached the back porch and tried to argue but John put his hand back over his mouth.

"She'll be waiting for us there."

"Wrong." Both turned, John jumping and sliding in the piled snow there at the sight of Vera standing waiting for them. "I put Sampson up front."

"Sampson?" Anna frowned, "That skeezy little man from this morning?"

"He's got his uses." Vera stepped forward, nodding at John. "It's been a long time John."

"Not long enough."

"I think a hundred years is enough time to realize that maybe we should rethink your position." Vera shrugged, her gloves creaking as John edged around the porch and pulled Anna with him. "You've shown not only a knack for staying alive when it's bloody inconvenient but also a tendency to think ahead, which I do admit I never gave you credit for before."

"I can't tell if you're numbering the reasons you'll kill me anyway or bemoaning all the qualities that keep me valuable." John backed up when they reached the front of the house, Anna going immediately to her grandmother as Sampson stepped back to let Vera take lead. "I'd hate for any of us to be confused about what's going on here."

"Oh, I'm complaining about why I'll be killing you anyway." Vera held up a hand, stopping John speaking. "I'm sure you understand that you've made a fool out of me for far too long."

"Your precious Judge not going to cut you anymore slack after you've cocked it all up so badly to now?"

"He's given me a gift, John." Vera stepped forward, drawing her finger down his face and leaving him shudder as he felt the point break open skin. He ignored it as his hand gathered a handful of snow from the window ledge behind him. "He's going to let me kill you."

"Too bad I don't plan on dying today."

"I do hope you're not about to say something as stupid as 'today is not the day I die' because I promise-"

John flung the snow in his hand at Vera's face and tackled her forward. They crashed through the front door of the house and John caught a glimpse of Anna grabbing her grandmother's hand while kicking up to catch Sampson between the legs. Rolling sideways John watched the two women run down the porch steps before he caught Vera's foot to his face.

"Don't get distracted now John." She seized his sweater, nails digging through the fabric as she lifted him from the ground and then tossed him down the hallway to collide with the far wall. "We've got so far to go."

* * *

Anna tugged her grandmother behind her, both of them sliding in the snow. Gran stumbled but Anna caught her, holding her up. "No time for that."

"I'm eighty years old Anna." She complained, tripping through the snow with Anna as they neared the lakeside. "I've not got time for anything."

"In this case I meant-"

"I know what you meant. I taught you what those things mean."

They rounded a copse of evergreens and Anna almost shrieked on instinct. The man Vera called Sampson stood before them, wincing with each step and holding a gun in a shaky hand. He hissed and they paused at the edge of the snow.

"It's been a long time since someone kicked me in the balls."

"Maybe too long." Anna moved herself in front of her grandmother, keeping an eye on the gun as they edged away from it. Her foot slipped and it took her a moment to realize they were no longer on snow. "Why are you even interested in all this?"

"Vera's rise is my own so if she succeeds in killing you then I succeed as well." He grimaced, holding at his groin as he stepped forward. "And while I wasn't too set on you either way, now that you…"

"Damaged your family jewels?"

Sampson's hand steadied and he let his mouth quirk. "I'll enjoy this."

Anna ducked and pushed Gran back toward the snow bank. A crack echoed in the night and she fell to her knees. A moment in eternity allowed her to realize that she was completely unaffected by whatever the noise was, even though Sampson's gun smoked.

"He shot the ice." Gran called and Anna kept herself still so only her eyes moved to find the site of strike. When her eyes landed on it, she moved her foot but the ice cracked out in a jagged gash toward her, stopping her motions. The sound of the gun hammer drawing back rang in her ears as the thunder of her blood matched the anxious rise in her chest.

"Guess I'll have to try again." Sampson aimed. "Maybe Thomas wasn't as much of a failure as a I thought and it wasn't his fault you're a hardy bitch."

Anna held her breath and fumbled in her back pocket for her phone as the hammer went back. Her gloves almost slipped on the phone but she grabbed it and flicked the flashlight setting up as Thomas's words rang in her ears. Words she repeated as she blinded Sampson with the light.

"Remember, light's my most powerful ally."

Sampson covered his eyes and fired. The shot hit Anna's phone, spinning it out of her hand as she hit the ice again. Another crack echoed under her and even through her layers she detected the shift in the surface of the lake. A shift that had her body running on pure adrenaline.

She went to stand and then teetered, grabbing her glove on the ice as it shifted under her. At the sound of a third crack Anna prepared for pain or cold but neither happened. Her head shot up to watched Sampson's eyes go wide and then they roll back into his head. In the next moment he collapsed to his knees and toppled forward.

Anna dodged his falling body, the ice splintering under her knees as she hurried to move out of the way. His body rolled past her and she slipped as she tried to get away from him. But she froze as he settled on the ice near where it cracked. She turned to her Gran, reaching a hand to her from the edge of lake, and extended her own arm. But when Sampson's arm, the one holding the gun, hit the ice, it shattered and Anna dropped into the water.

* * *

John fell head over heels down the stairs, hitting the railing where the stairs turned hard enough to stop him momentum. But Vera landing next to him in her leap down the stairs had her kicking him through the wooden barrier. The wooden splinters flew around his face, cutting his face and hands as he tried to protect his head when he tumbled onto the concrete floor.

Coughing, breath wheezing from him, John got to his feet and limped to stand straight. Vera descended the stairs as John blinked and brought his fists up. But his vision fluttered and he rocked unsteadily on his feet. A fact Vera took in her stride when she landed a fist hard enough in his face to not only crack his nose but send him back to hit the boiler. His head rung and he fell to his knees when the pain exploded in the back of his skull.

"You were always a hardy one. I thought that when you could go all night and I appreciated it them." Vera stopped before him and John swung wide but she blocked the motion before landing another fist alongside his jaw. "They say that what you appreciate in a partner now'll be what drives you mad later. Their spontaneity becomes a disregard for planning. Their surprise gifts registers as frivolous spending. Their loving tendencies turn into suffocating habits."

She hauled John to his feet, slamming him back against the boiler and he registered the hiss of escaping air as his flailing elbow impacted one of the gauges and knocked it loose. "It's the little things, in the end, that tear apart relationships."

"Not the psychopathic tendencies?" John managed, his eyes blinking red and black at the edges of his vision. "Because I could see that being a difficulty."

"Are you calling me mad?" Vera threw John sideways and he worked to bring his elbow up enough to knock another gauge for another hiss and groan from the boiler. "Because if there's anything I learned in the hundred years I celebrated your death, it was the idea that you never call a woman mad."

"I didn't say mad." John crawled on the floor, finding a long-armed wrench and grasping it with two hands. "I said 'psychopathic' because those two words have two different meanings."

"I'm not appreciating the technicalities of the English language at this point." Vera ducked as John swung the wrench and it burst through another gauge, denting a pipe and blocking another so one of the final gauge's needles wiggled toward the red. "And your aim's gotten worse. I'm sure she's not grateful but I guess if you wear her out with your persistence she'll forgive your other failings."

"Maybe." John took another swing, ducking Vera's drive for him, and smashing another piece of the boiler to send the needle deep into the red.

As he did, Vera yanked the wrench from his hands and went to bring it down on his head. But in the fight the ring slipped loose from his sweater and in the dimness of the boiler room, with only a tiny window in the corner to let in the light, John remembered Thomas's words, "Even the stars'll help you if you need aid." He twisted and the stone on the ring caught the light and shined into Vera's eyes. She stumbled back and John scrambled to his feet.

He wrestled the wrench from Vera, tossing it as hard as he could into the boiler. It dented the final pipe and the whole fixture started shaking. The steady roar grew as John jumped up the stairs and ran for the front door. Just as he reached the porch the whole house exploded and he flew through the air into the snow.

Working himself out of the snow, John stumbled to his feet and noted the large hole in the top of the house, splinters and shards of brick dotting the area around him. He sighed, filling his lungs with cold air, and then started at a shrill shriek breaking the air. With a moment to orient himself, John ran for the sound.

The cold meant nothing to him as he found Gran cracking at the ice of the lake. John hit his knees next to her and held her for a moment. But she could only sob and point at the ice. He turned and noted Sampson's body still on the ice but a large gap in the ice where Gran pointed he noticed a floating hand.

John dived onto the ice, grabbing for Sampson's hand to snatch the gun as the ice broke under them. He only managed a half breath before the chill of the water drove it from his chest. It almost reminded him of the time Anna took him to the reservoir of the house he just blew to pieces.

With the little light that broke through the ice, John saw Anna floating. He swam toward her, catching under her arms and kicking strongly for the surface. As he did, his shoulders hit the ice above them and he adjusted them enough to knock the gun against it. With a prayer that took up what was left of his thoughts, John fired against the ice until there were no more bullets left.

He dropped the gun and knocked the ice with his elbow. It shattered and his head burst out of the water to haul the freezing air into his lungs. Working his elbow over the edge of the ice he tugged and hauled Anna from the water to slide her onto the ice.

Carefully, he got himself out and maneuvered them on the larger sections of ice to get them back to the edge. Gran grabbed Anna, dragging her through the snow and then offered a hand to John. But something hit him, rolling him back over the ice to fall back through the hole he made.

Water filled his lungs and his eyes fought to stay open so he could see what hit him. Vera, covered in soot and singed in places she was not gashed and burned, clawed for him but John kicked away. But the weight of his soaked clothing and the weight of the injuries of the day dragged him toward the bottom when Vera clutched his ankle.

Darkness wrapped over him as Vera's frightening expression filled his vision. And as he went to give out his last breath, John caught a beam of light from above. His foot connected with Vera, knocking her back, and sending himself to the surface. He broke from the water, crawling to the snow as he noted the chill solidifying the ice around him.

Hands pulled him from the water and John got himself into the snow as Vera's fist beat on the ice. Her fierce snarl remained as her fists weakened in her attempt to beat herself free. And in a moment her body settled and drifted away into an unseen current.

John shivered, convulsing on the snow, and turned to Gran as she yanked at his sweater. He tried to move his body but the cold set in to freeze his muscles and tense his body. But Gran continued to pull at him, practically dragging him through the snow, to where Anna's skin blued in the cold. She tried to lift them both, tears streaming from her eyes and frustration in every motion.

It was in that moment John felt a hand touch his shoulder. He blinked, turning to the figure, and noted a man in a white suit. The man dipped, putting a hand to John's head and then stepped back. A rush of warmth gave John a jolt of energy and he seized Anna, lifting her into his arms and stumbling as he turned to try and locate the man.

But he was gone.

John pivoted in place, breathing hard, and then pressed forward toward the ruined house. But instead of going inside he turned down a forgotten path. Trees had grown up around it, shrouding it in a dense copse of evergreens, but John pushed through with his shoulder set sideways and stumbled into the greenhouse. The greenhouse with a missing pane of glass and a large fairy bed in the center.

The heat almost let steam rise off John's sweater as he led Gran to the bed he laid Anna on. Between the two of them they managed to get her soaking coat and clothes off so they could rub over her skin. John rubbed quickly, striping himself of his sopping clothing and turning to Gran.

"Can you find any more clothes for her?"

"The house-" Gran pointed toward it and John shrugged.

"I know but there could be something." He motioned toward where Anna did not move. "She needs whatever we can get her."

Gran nodded and ran from the greenhouse, leaving John and Anna alone. He crawled beside her, trying to give what little heat he had to offer as he continued rubbing over her stiff and frigid limbs. In the silence he saw history repeating itself and held her closer to hide his tears.

"Not again. Don't let me lose you again." He held her close, the beat of his heart all he could hear. "Not again."


	21. Two Become One

Anna blinked her eyes open, snorted against the tubes in her nose. She raised her hands to pull it from her face and turned her head towards the beeping machines around her. Another shift had her sitting up and breathing out as she tried to comprehend what was going on and where exactly she was.

But the shrieking sob and the accompanying arms immediately wrapping around her, drown all other thoughts from Anna's mind. The tight grasp around her neck almost closed off her windpipe and Anna fought to go along with the embrace before finally extricating herself to take a deep breath. She held the woman at arm's length, relaxing at the sight of her grandmother, and then allowed another hug.

This one did not take her breath away but Anna rocked with it all the same. They separated a little more quickly this time and Anna succumbed to her grandmother's careful touches. The way she pushed back her hair, touched her face, and then clutched at her hand as if assuring herself that Anna really did sit before her.

Anna gripped her hand, "It's alright. I'm alright, Gran."

"They didn't know if you'd wake up."

"Who?" Anna shook her head, noting the stiffness of her fingers. "What happened?"

"You almost died. You fell into the water and John pulled you out but you were so cold. When I told the paramedics what happened they thought your core temperature would never rise but when they arrived you stabilized."

"You called an ambulance?"

"Of course I did. We got lucky and when John blew the roof off the house our things were still in one piece. I got you clothes and my phone."

"John blew the roof off the house?"

"I think he pressurized the boiler and it burst." Gran shrugged, "There's nothing much that can't be fixed without a decent contractor and a construction crew. Maybe we should hire John to do it."

"Wait, slow down." Anna looked around the room, "What happened? And where's John?"

"He accidently blew up part of the house by the lake and he's in another room." Gran cringed, "We've been having a time of it keeping him here though since we've got to explain why a man of his age doesn't have an identity or an kind of history at all."

"Why's he in here?"

"He got frostbite and hypothermia, same as you."

Anna closed her eyes, brain running a mile a minute trying to follow the chain of events. "Leaving behind all the rest of it, because I can't wrap my head around it right now, how'd you explain him to the doctors?"

"Said we've misplaced his things because he got robbed." Gran shrugged, "It's what I've got so far and no one's made a thing of it yet since they've been a bit more concerned in addressing his health issues."

"But they bought him being robbed?"

"It was harder to explain the house blowing up." Gran sighed sitting down on the chair near Anna's bed. "But I guess that's why we've got insurance."

Anna laid back on the bed, "Think they'll let me sneak into his room and see him? Just to make sure he's alright?"

"I'll wait ten minutes and then steal you a wheelchair." Gran snorted, "Two days ago that would've been the weirdest thing I've said."

"And now?"

"No?" Gran let a smile take over her face. "I honestly believe this was the best Christmas holiday we've ever had."

"We almost died, Gran." Anna went to speak and then stopped, her face falling. "And it's all my fault."

"I'm sure that mad woman would've made trouble one way or the other."

"But we went up there because she got to me. She convinced me I could save you and I fell for it." Anna put a palm to her forehead, sniffing past tears. "This whole thing is because I got had. The house is gone, we almost died and-"

"Anna," Gran covered her hand, taking it in her own to pat and soothe. "We all do foolish things for those we love. You did what you did because you loved me and that horrible woman tried to use it against you. That man two doors down did what he did because he wants to love you. I'm giving you the position at the paper because I love you. These things shouldn't be undervalued... Even when they don't quite turn out as we planned."

"That doesn't make it any less stupid."

"No, but it does mean that while the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, we shouldn't let that stop us turning and doing good things. Mother Teresa said that."

"A very wise woman."

"One of the wisest."

"Except you." Anna grinned at her grandmother, wiping away tears as she took a breath, "Is that wheelchair still in play?"

Gran winked at her, pushing away from the bed and leaving a kiss on Anna's forehead before she vanished into the corridor. A few moments later she pushed the chair into the room and helped Anna into it, dragging the IV pole behind them, and steered her toward the door. "Now we just pretend that we're supposed to be doing this."

"Could they really stop us?"

"I don't know. Every movie I've ever seen tells me we're not supposed to be doing this but I've never actually done anything like this so it'll be firsts all around." Gran pushed her down the hallway, passing to the second room from Anna's and leaned around the chair to open the door. "We didn't get stopped so I guess they couldn't stop us."

"Or didn't care to stop us."

"Stop you doing what?" John sat up from his bed, holding a cup of custard in one hand and a spoon in the other. "These are amazing. I don't know why I didn't agree to the chance to go to hospital before."

"Probably because it's hard to explain your existence." Gran shook her head. "I still don't know what we'll do about that."

"Don't you have friends of a less than savory variety?" John shrugged as both Anna and Gran looked at him with confusion. "I work at a garage so I know someone who could get me a fake ID but it wouldn't hold up."

"And what would that have to do with us having less savory friends?" Anna made a face. "What kind of assumptions are you making?"

"You work at a newspaper." John shrugged, "Don't you have sources and connections and things like that? People who crawl around the underbelly of society and know all the people or something?"

"I can't say I've met anyone who's on the level you'd need." Gran shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "Anyone 'less savory' in my world usually defraud people out of pensions or are accused of being war criminals."

"And anyone I knew who fit that bill graduated and made themselves decent human beings…" Anna cringed, "Mostly."

"Then it's a good thing that I have a few disreputable friends left in my cohort." Everyone turned to the door to see Mary waving at them from her post. "Thought I should offer my skills to your situation."

"How'd you even know we were here?" Anna turned in her chair, holding the back of it to keep herself in position as Mary stayed in the doorway. "And why are you not coming closer?"

"Sybil works here and she let me know the minute Granny Smith came in with two people strapped to gurneys." Mary saluted Gran, who nodded in return. "And I don't like hospitals so I'm not going to stand in any room where there might be a chance that I catch any one of a million different diseases."

"They clean these rooms you know." Gran turned on her heel to address Mary, raising an eyebrow. "I knew you were very particular, Mary, but like this."

"You never saw me in hospital." Mary motioned toward Gran. "If you will, we should continue this discussion somewhere not near this room so we can give John Doe there a new identity. Something that might make him a bit… less old, if what he mumbled to Sybil in his sleep when she was getting his IV drip changed is anything to go by."

Anna faced John, "You mumble in your sleep?"

"I guess I do."

"You don't know."

John shrugged, "I don't remember that ever being a complaint before but it's also not a question I asked anyone who ever slept with me."

"And on that note," Gran put a hand on Anna's shoulder, "I'm going to help Mary figure out how we'll get 'John Doe' a new name and some form of suitable identity."

'Something where he's not literally 'John Doe' might be a nice choice."

Gran left with Mary, both of them discussing it back and forth, as Anna worked herself out of the wheelchair and toward John's bed. He shifted our of her way and she managed to rest on the edge of the crinkling sheets, exhaling. "That shouldn't have been so hard."

"You almost died."

"So did you."

"Not like you."

Anna tried to smile but only sniffed back her tears. "Did I really-"

John pushed his tray away, taking her hand. "It's alright."

"No, it's not." Anna wiped furiously at her eyes. "I almost got us all killed. I led to this and…"

"Hey," John soothed her, a thumb wiping away a few tears. "We've all made mistakes we're not proud of. What you're feeling right now… I've felt that."

"Really?"

"Really." John sighed, "It's what got Anna killed the first time so whatever you need I'm here to help you."

"Gran told me you already helped me a lot." Anna ran her thumb over his knuckles, sniffing back a few more tears and trying to wipe at the rest of them. "She said you saved me."

"I did what I could."

Anna shook her head, "It's… It's more than that."

John cringed, "Is this about me breaking the boiler in the basement of the house your great-great-grandfather built in an attempt to destroy a demon from Hell?"

Anna snorted her laughter. "In other circumstances I'll explain to you exactly how insurance works when you have an identity that'll allow you to actually get some. It's why you blowing up the house really isn't the national crisis you think it is right now."

"Then what's-"

Anna put her finger over John's lips. "This is my turn, if you please." John nodded and Anna pulled her finger away. "My Gran told me you went into the water to save me which makes me wonder exactly how you did it."

"How'd you mean?"

"If you went into the water then you would've been just as cold. If you dragged me out then wouldn't you be even more exhausted than me?" Anna focused on his hand, and then his face. "How'd you do it?"

John let out a breath. "Honestly?"

"I think that's best."

"Honestly, I don't know." John shrugged, "It was exactly how you said. I went into the water and pulled you out but then Vera dragged me back into the water. I barely got away from her and got myself to the surface. I had no energy. There was nothing I could have done but then…"

He paused and Anna frowned, "But what?"

"But then I felt something touch me. Or someone." John shook his head, "Your Gran had been pulling at me, trying to get me on my feet since she couldn't drag you or me, but I almost collapsed right there in the snow."

"So she wasn't the one who touched you?"

"Whatever did touch me, it wasn't your Gran."

"Then what-"

"I don't know but it looked like a man in a white suit." John cringed, "It sounds odd I know, but something touched me and when it did I had the strength to lift you. I carried you to the greenhouse and the heat helped bring you back from… wherever you were."

"Where did you think I was?"

John lowered his head, tears brimming in his eyes. "I thought you were dead. I thought I was…"

Anna scooted closer to him on the bed, dragging her IV along the floor. "I can't imagine how difficult that was for you."

"I…" John cleared his throat, blinking quickly and then lifting a hand to wipe at the tears that began leaking from his eyes to match the ones Anna already lost from her eyes. "I thought I would lose you the way…"

"The way you lost her." Anna finished and took a breath. "Then I've got to confess something to you."

"Confess?"

"When I was… dying." Anna gripped John's hand with both of hers. "I… I saw her life. I saw everything about your Anna and I saw everything she thought about you. I knew everything she knew and I felt that I knew you. I… heard you."

"Heard me?" John frowned, "Heard me what?"

"I heard what you said, that you didn't want it to happen again." Anna swallowed, "I was so close to going. I didn't want to fight it any longer, the pain of coming back was a weight I didn't care about lifting so I was just going to where it was easier. I was going to give up but when you said you didn't want to lose me again I couldn't-"

"Couldn't what?"

"I couldn't leave you."

They sat in silence for a moment before John spoke again. "I know what you said, that we still don't know one another well, and I respect your decisions because it's important that we build on that kind of foundation and I-"

"John." Anna held his face between her hands, forcing them to look at one another, "Be direct. It's your best quality and I've not got enough brain power at the moment to think in circles."

John smiled, "We don't know each other well but I want to know you. Or, I want to know you better than I do… if you'd be alright with that."

"I'm more than alright with that." Anna smiled at him. "Even for as much as I think I know you now, I don't really."

"Especially since they'll give me a whole new name." John nudged Anna, "What kind of name do you think I should have?"

"Whatever name you have, it won't change who you are." Anna put her hand over his heart. "That's what matters most to me."

"No matter what I've done and the risks I brought to your family?"

"It wouldn't matter what I found out about you. It wouldn't change my opinion of you one bit" Anna pulled his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. "I want to know you however, whatever, and whenever."

"Then, may I ask you on a date… as soon as I have an identity and we're both out of this hospital?"

"I'd like that." Anna plucked at her gown. "This isn't exactly my best dress."

"You wear it alright."

"It ties at the back and I don't think they've given me the most flattering of knickers."

John grinned at her, "The best knickers are the ones you're not wearing."

"You only say that because you haven't seen me in lingerie."

* * *

John tugged at his bowtie, shaking his head. "It's been too long since I tied one of these."

"Then let me help." Gran waved her hands toward him and John bent down so she could adjust his tie. "I used to help do these up for my husband."

"Attend a lot of black-tie functions did you?"

"Far too many for him. He was an easy-going man and he detested those functions." Gran pulled at the edge, "My mother taught me how to tie them."

"Your grandfather taught me how to tie them." John noted the pause in Gran's fingers. "I hope I didn't just-"

"Put your foot in it?" Gran shook her head, patting John's chest. "No, just reminded me that you belong in this family."

"I've not asked her yet." John teased, pulling the ring from his pocket, and then immediately sobered. "Do you think she'll be alright with it?"

"Whatever history that ring holds, it belongs to the two of you." Gran admired it. "My mother said that as much as she wished, sometimes, that my grandfather had it to give the man who asked for her hand, she always had a feeling it'd come back to the family."

"What about our family?" John almost fumbled the ring, getting it back into his pocket as Anna came to the top of the stairs. "I do hope she's not telling you any embarrassing secrets."

"Just all the embarrassing stories." Gran supplied, squeezing John's hand before walking over to the hanging coats as John struggled to close his mouth.

Anna descended the stairs in a midnight blue dress, the material scraping just enough to raise all the hairs on his arms, with her arms and shoulders exposed. She accepted the gloves and a kiss on the cheek from Gran before turning to John. He swallowed hard, his collar much too tight, and attempted coherent speech.

"You look... I mean, you are… That is…"

"I'll take that compliment for what it is." Anna grinned at him, pulling on the elbow-length gloves. "They say that the measure of an impressive woman is her ability to stop a man with one look."

"You've certainly stopped him." Gran winked at him, from over Anna's shoulder, and helped her into a coat. "Now remember, bundle up because it's cold and-"

"We'd hate to catch our deaths." Anna finished, hugging her grandmother with one arm before turning to John. "I hope you're not trying to impress me by not wearing a coat."

"No, I just…" John sidestepped them, taking his coat off the hook and working into with all the grace he could manage. "I'm ready."

"Right." Gran nodded at both of them, "Remember, no later than midnight as I don't trust anyone when they're cavorting at the early hours of the holiday. It makes for more accidents and-"

"Dangerous people aren't to be trusted."

"Don't roll your eyes when you say that young lady. I still know what I'm talking about even if I am old."

"Yes Gran." Anna hugged her grandmother again before slipping her arm in John's. "We'll only stay until the fireworks and then be gone, I promise."

"I need it from him." Gran pointed a finger at John. "Do you-"

"We'll be back before midnight."

Gran nodded, finally satisfied. "Alright. Now I've got my programs so don't either of you worry about me."

"Yes ma'am." John led Anna outside, both shivering on impulse the moment they it the frosty air. "Maybe we should just stay and watch programs with your grandmother."

"Oh no," Anna tugged him down the stairs toward the car, "I didn't go to all the trouble of donating a ludicrous amount of money to the local historical society to get this New Year's Eve Ball back on just to have us waste the inaugural opportunity watching British Christmas specials."

"Was it as much money as you had to spend restoring the house?" John craned his neck up, opening Anna's door for her. "You can't even tell I blew the roof off this thing."

"That's what a year and a very qualified construction crew can do when they've got a dedicated historian helping them and a large bonus if they finished ahead of schedule." Anna took the driver's side and John heard the engine rumble to life as he hurried around the other side of the car to get in on his side. "Plus, the historical society was obliged to help when I told them we'd rent out the house for parties and tours. Gives them purpose."

"Already your grandmother's granddaughter."

"I was that long before now." Anna shivered and let her teeth chatter. "Although I'm advocating that next year we spend the holidays somewhere nice and warm."

"Well, as the editor of a big newspaper, I'd say we could go wherever you want."

"Says the man who stuffed money under his mattress for long enough he's basically independently wealthy."

"That's time and effort."

"So's my company." Anna steered the car onto the road and they followed the familiar path toward the large meeting hall.

John stared at it, the memory of it lit with new electric lights and candles fading quickly at the sight of the bright Christmas decorations still adoring its every eve. He leaned forward, the barest hint of the terrace visible from their position, and felt Anna's hand on his. Turning to look at her, as they joined the queue of cars lining up for valet service, John squeezed her hand back.

"It's alright."

"If it's too painful…"

"It's not." John soothed, kissing the back of her gloved hand. "It's just a memory, nothing more."

"I do hope the last year's been a good time for us to've made a few more memories." Anna let the slight hint of a leer enter her grin. "Some of them good."

"Most of them good." John got out of the car as the valet opened his door and hurried around so the other one did not have a chance to open Anna's door. "In fact, I'd hazard to say all of them are good."

"Even when we fight or argue or-"

John kissed away the rest of Anna's sentence. "Especially then. I cherish each and every moment I've had with you."

Anna put a hand to his face, walking with the others chattering excitedly and showing off their dresses and costumes. "I know I couldn't say this before, no matter how many times you told me, but I need to say it now."

John pulled them to the side, frowning slightly. "What is it?"

"It's good news silly." Anna smiled at him, pulling him closer to whisper in his ear. "I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as tightly to him as he could manage. Anna did not fight it, only sighing into his embrace and returning it with all the strength her arms could manage. After a moment they separated and John kissed Anna with all the energy he could muster. She held him close to return the gesture and only broke when they finally heard the sound of whistles.

"I think we're giving them all a show."

"I'd let the whole world see it if I thought it'd express to them even a fraction of how I feel." John took a deep breath, "But you're right. This isn't really the time or the place."

"Its true." Anna let her fingers trail up John's buttons before wiping a bit of her lipstick off his mouth. "That time and place is when I can strip you naked and ride you until we both collapse."

"You can't say things like that and not let me return the favor." John growled in her ear but Anna only giggled and worked out of her coat, handing it over to the man behind the coat check.

"I didn't say you couldn't return the favor." Anna peeked over John's shoulder and he turned to follow her gaze, frowning.

"What?"

"Mary said she and Matthew might put in an appearance since they've been doing some work on her family's house up here."

"They're going to live there?"

"No, Mary's not a fan of this place. I think they're going to sell it to a hotel man and run it as part of the historical society."

"Did you see them?"

"No, but I saw a private corner because I need to talk to you really quickly about something."

"Are you alright?"

Anna shook her head, tugging him behind her. "I'm fine. If it were something serious I wouldn't have waited until a party to talk to you about it."

"Then what-"

"Just come on." Anna dragged him into the corridor, finding an empty room and sequestering them inside it before shutting the door. She turned to him, a grin splitting her face. "Do you remember the doctor's appointment I had?"

"Yes." John frowned, "You're not-"

"You are an alarmist, Mr. Bates." Anna grabbed his hand. "I'm… Or, rather, _we're_ pregnant."

"We're preg-" John stopped, blinking at her. "We're pregnant?"

Anna nodded, "You're going to be a father John."

He swept her up into a hug, pulling her off the floor and into a spin before setting her down on the edge of a table in the room. Taking a moment to just look at her, hands on either side of her face, he smiled before kissing her. Her hands went to the back of his neck and held him close when he went to end the kiss and John gave over to Anna's insistence.

When she finally broke the kiss she said nothing. Instead, her hand covered one of his and removed it from her cheek. John frowned but Anna kissed his fingers before sucking two of them into her mouth. He groaned but she persisted until she was ready to let go, doing so with a pop.

As she finished, Anna moved his hand to track down her body. The material of her dress stretched over her legs as she spread them, the motion rucking the slit to her knee further up her thigh. John could only watch, his hand limp in her grip so she could do with it what she wanted. And he only spoke when she finally placed his fingers under the skirt of her dress at her core.

"It would seem that you conveniently forgot your knickers this evening Ms. Smith." John dragged his fingers over her, heeding the guidance of her hand wrapped around his wrist.

"My mind was far too occupied with telling you the news." Anna shrugged, spreading her legs a bit more so his fingers glided lower, her hips bucking into the motion. "I do hope you've not got any plans to penalize me."

"Oh I've certainly got plans for it." John's other hand pulled her face to his, taking her lips in an easy kiss before grasping at her ass to drag her to the edge of the table. "If you're willing."

"Always." Anna pulled his lips back to hers, fingers splayed over his cheeks to better control the kiss as John's fingers dived deep inside her.

John pulled away from the kiss and dropped to his knees, hand on Anna's knee to part her legs a bit more as he pulled her close enough to run his tongue down her. With his fingers still inside her, he spread her folds to drag the flat of his tongue over her and sucked hard at her clit when he reached the end. Anna's legs tightened around him but John persisted with fingers and tongue until she broke around him.

He continued, licking and sucking her through her climax to keep it going until she sobbed for him to join her. Her fingers clutched into his jacket, hauling him up to bring John to his feet, and dragging him closer so she could kiss her taste from his lips. A taste John embellished with that of her mouth as her fingers hurried with his belt and trousers to force them out of the way.

In less than a moment, they were together, rocking and thrusting in time with the pants and whimpers they exchanged instead of words. John held one hand on her ass, supporting her to a new angle that had Anna sobbing into his neck, and the other gripped the table to keep them in one position so it did not skid over the floor. Anna's hands made their continuous path between his jacket and neck to try and find purchase as they rose to new heights again.

They came together, sighing into one another. John kissed at Anna's neck as she teethed his jaw and earlobe, their bodies stuttering and trembling with the final thrusts and clutches. Her fingers shook when he unwrapped them from their clinging grip on his lapels but John kissed each of them before pulling back.

Between the two of them they found tissues to clean themselves before restoring the rest of their appearance. John offered Anna his hand and helped her from the table, tugging lightly on his jacket to get another kiss from him. John chuckled into it, breaking the kiss earlier than he expected as Anna frowned at him.

"Something funny Mr. Bates?"

"Just that I'll have a time explaining all these wrinkles in my suit coat." John pulled at his jacket, "Which means we'll just have to dance quite a lot."

"Then I've a confession of my own," Anna bit her lip, "I can't actually dance."

"I guess it's an excellent thing that I can dance and that I'm supposed to lead anyway." John took Anna's hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm. "If you would, Ms. Smith?"

"I'd be honored, Mr. Bates."

True to his promise, John led her around the room in a variety of dances until she finally begged for a moment off their feet. John led them to a table, sitting her there as someone immediately engaged her in conversation. He excused himself for a drink but his eyes caught sight of the doors to the terrace.

John pushed through them, shivering at the cold and holding his arms closer to himself as the drying sweat on his skin prickled. With breath billowing out of his mouth, John walked to the railing and touched the snow there. He snorted, taking a bit to his hands and shivering as his hands reddened with the cold.

"You'll catch your death out here." He turned, Anna coming toward him. "And it'll be a horrible way to celebrate the New Year."

"Quite right." John took her hand, leading her back toward the doors. "I danced with her here. It's where Thomas drugged me and then her."

"Does it still hurt?" Anna put her hand over his heart but John only grabbed it to kiss her covered palm.

"No. They're all just memories now. Good times wrapped with the bad."

"That's life."

"So it is." John took a breath of the frigid air. "Would you like another dance Ms. Smith or do you think we'll enjoy the fireworks from the house?"

"We did promise Gran we'd be back before midnight." Anna jerked her head toward the interior of the hall. "Let's go."

They made their way back through the crowd, gathering their coats and the car to drive back in the quiet dark of the night. When they reached the house, parking in the garage and then making the mad dash through the snow toward the house, the fireworks exploded in the distance. John seized Anna's hand and pulled her through the house to the roof entrance he insisted needed to remain in the renovations.

The door stuck a bit but John brought Anna out onto the terrace where the tent stood a hundred years ago. His hands wrapped over hers, pulling her into position, and danced to the tune of the exploding fireworks and the vague hints of music floating on the air in the distance. Danced until the cold forced them inside.

"Was that where her tent stood?" Anna's teeth chattered as John pulled the door shut, locking it and leading them down the stairs to the floor beneath. "Where she slept?"

"Yes. It kept her fever down and got a bit more than chilly." John shivered at the memory, "But it was worth it."

"The pain's always worth it to experience the pleasure we could have." Anna dragged her gloves off her hands, shucking her coat to drape over the railing. "That's what I've discovered."

"Have I helped you experience all the pleasure you could have?" John let his coat drop on top of Anna's, pulling her close to him. "Have I made you happy?"

"More than you could imagine." Anna slotted herself in the space he left for her, fingers moving over his clothes with seeming abandon until John gasped as she cupped his arousal with her bare hand. "Although I could help you understand."

John dug his fingers into the railing at his side as Anna went to her knees before him to drag her tongue down the length of him. She kissed back to the tip and flashed him a dirty look before she wrapped her lips around him. His fingers dug into the railing and he braced himself on his palm so hard it indented his skin.

Her fingers played over him, teasing and squeezing until John bit into his fist to stop himself shouting out. But luck saved him as a sound from the first floor forced Anna to pause. She rocked back onto her heels and they both looked over the railing to see Gran moving from the sitting room toward the stairs.

In a flash they grabbed their coats and darted toward the stairs, John trying to force himself back into his trousers without actually setting himself off. Anna flung an arm out, ducking them both around a corner as Gran stopped at the second floor, and before John realized what she was doing her hand closed around him. He practically bit through his own tongue trying to stop himself crying out when Anna stroked over him.

The thump of their coats drew Gran's attention and she called up but it was up to Anna to reply. Although, John almost chuckled against her neck, it could not have been easy when he had her dress rucked up to her hips and thrust into her. Her nails clawed at the back of John's head as if to pay him back for the dirty trick but his hand kneading her breast set her moaning.

"Is that you two?"

"Yes Gran." Anna's neck tightened and John traced the line of a muscle with his tongue, the hand not at her breast holding her ass tightly to bring her hips to meet his thrusts.

"Did you have fun?"

"It was fantastic." Anna bit his ear, her hand snaking between them to hold back her dress and massage herself at the same time until John adjusted the angle of his hips to strike her clit better when he sank deeply inside her.

"Did John teach you how to dance?"

"Something like that." Anna's nails scraped his scalp but John pressed forward, driving harder against her and gritting his own teeth against the flick of her fingers against him when he pulled back to the edge. "He's a very good guide."

"I'd expect so." The pause almost exposed them before John swallowed Anna's groan. "What are you doing up there?"

"Just… Showing her the roof." John supplied as Anna bit into his shoulder, sending his hips rutting faster against her. "I wanted to show her where the tent on the roof used to be."

"How wonderful. Were the fireworks beautiful from there?"

John paused, holding right at the edge as he and Anna met one another's eyes. His finger brushed a piece of hair from her face. "They were gorgeous."

"That's good. I heard they might skimp and I'm glad they didn't."

"Us too." John plunged forward and Anna's head hit the wall behind her as she fell over the edge.

"Well Happy New Year."

"Happy… New Year Gran." Anna stuttered, holding tight to John as he sped up, losing all style in his frantic movements. "Sleep well."

"I will." John swore he heard her laugh and he buried his finished groan into Anna's neck. "Make sure you clean up after yourselves. There'll be people touring this place in a few weeks and I don't think they want to explain that on the tour."

Anna snorted her laughter as John struggled to keep them on their feet. Once they were stable enough, still laughing with one another, John grabbed their coats and Anna leaned forward to kiss him. "I wouldn't mind explaining that I had sex right here with the man I love."

"I might be a little more embarrassed about that." John waited for Anna to go down the stairs first, following her closely to their room. "Something about Edwardian values and all that."

"You were raised here."

"Doesn't mean they didn't come over the ocean. 'Rooseveltian Values' doesn't quite have the same feel to it."

"Don't knock one of my favorite presidents." Anna poked at his chest, turning in place. "Mind getting me out of this dress?"

"Isn't there a more racily seductive way you could've asked that?" John dropped their coats onto a chair and helped Anna escape the dress, noting the tick of arousal at the sight of her bare ass.

"I've had you twice tonight already Mr. Bates." Anna teased over her shoulder, shedding her bra and taking the dress to hang in the bathroom. "If I wanted you again I'd try a bit harder."

"I'd hope so." John worked his tie off, arranging his suit back on the hanger as he snuck the ring from its pocket. He dangled the chain from his fingers, listening for the water in the shower as he turned down the bed and readied their pajamas. But when she came out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her and another drying her hair, John could wait no longer.

"Anna," He coughed and she stopped, hanging the towel off a hook on the door and then blinking wide eyes when he took her hands. "I've got something to ask you."

"What?"

"I…" John shook his head and dropped to one knee as Anna's free hand flew to her mouth. "I know this is going to sound like I'm trying to do the right thing because you told me we're pregnant but I promise you I've been sitting on this for weeks because I didn't know how to ask you and it felt right to ask you tonight because… Well because it's when I asked her and it's a significant moment for me but also because it was this time last year I got a second chance and I got you back and…"

Anna dropped to her knees with him, flinging her loose arm around his shoulders to kiss him. John fumbled a moment, curling his fingers around the ring to keep from dropping it, and held her close until she pulled away from the kiss. "Can you just ask me already?"

"Anna May Smith, will you marry me?"

"Hell yes."

John took the ring, sliding it onto Anna's finger. "It's your great-great-grandmother's ring and it's back where it belongs."

"So are you." Anna examined the ring and then pulled John closer. "Mind if I decide to seduce you again?"

"By all means."

And watching Anna get up, drop her towel, and saunter toward the bed was all he needed. Having her order him flat on his back before she straddled his face so he could eat her out burned his blood. Watching her ride him nearly drove him over the edge but he managed to suck her breasts and tease her clit to let her climax again before he flipped them on the bed.

A slight alignment and he was inside her again. With the light reflecting off the ring on her finger, her eyes on his, and their lips meeting between breaths, John let himself go. Each thrust struck deeply within her until he finally collapsed, completely spent.

They shifted more comfortably on the bed, Anna holding him close with an arm around his waist and head between his chin and shoulder while he tangled fingers in her damp hair. John moved enough to kiss her forehead and then run a hand over her abdomen. "Is it too soon to hope this won't be our only one?"

"I think you should actually marry me first." Anna snorted, "Gran might kill you if we have this baby out of wedlock."

"She already knows what we've been doing."

"But she didn't know we weren't using protection." Anna shuddered, "I don't want her to give me 'The Talk' again."

"That what?"

"Never mind." Anna tipped John's chin down to kiss him again. "We'll worry about that all tomorrow."

"Yes we will." John sighed, "Happy New Year Anna."

"Happy New Year John."

He held her tighter, "I love you."

"And I love you." Her ring moved over his skin. "My future husband."


	22. Love's Pure Light

Everyone looks at the sky and thinks they are staring at balls of gas burning as suns in distant solar systems. They think about their life cycle and wonder if they are just beginning their life or near death. They wonder if there is life where those stars burn brightly, if somewhere beyond the atmosphere guarding our planet others look up and wonder the same about our sun.

But what if our stars are not just stars? What if they are the souls of the people who have passed on and moved to be our guides by night? Perhaps stars are merely the evidence of souls that we still see.

What most forget about it all of it is that we live in a world moved by light. Light guides us and directs us. But no matter where light is, darkness was first. The chaos that fights the order giving us balance in life.

That kind of influence drives some to fear, some to run, and some to fight.

Those who fear live in darkness. The same darkness that covers all lives and makes it difficult to see the end from the beginning. That all-encompassing shroud that deafens all hope and joy. They cannot escape the trap of their own creation and eventually perish to live half lives as they never free themselves.

Those who run are those overshadowed by those things they never resolved. The light frightens them in equal measure with the darkness. The darkness are those fears they will never confront and the ones that would drown them if given the chance. But the light represents the chance to failure. They run from the failures and successes they never chose to learn from so they only move quickly in place without anything to show for it but exhaustion.

Those that fight take light as their armor, sword, and shield. It battles the darkness, beating it back each day. Either with fatal blows as each fear they choose to confront becomes a lesson learned or with protection as they learn to accept those parts of themselves that could prove their downfall if not embraced. They recognize their shortcomings, are not puffed up by their pride, and then stand in full view of themselves in the mirror without fear.

Nothing is created nor destroyed. Light is eternal and the source of all truth. Truths that where there is life there is death. Where the child born bawling and screaming in its red, wrinkled fury to lay in his father's protective hold would never truly know his great-grandmother. That the grandmother watching proudly over her granddaughter and grandson's wedding would soon succumb to the disease that spread its insidious hold throughout her body until it owned her being.

It was at the grave of Elizabeth Smith that Anna Smith Bates ran a hand over her already protruding abdomen while her other hand, the one bearing the ring once on the hand of her great-great-aunt after belonging to her great-great-grandmother, clung tightly to that of her husband. His other hand clutched their son to his chest to keep him warm in the chill breeze. A breeze that felt like the one he endured when standing at the grave of his first love.

There, in the plot dedicated to members of the Smith family, he looked at the stones symbolizing a family that meant everything to him. And there that the light from a sun peeking through gray clouds gave a new view of the stones. The lights of the stars, the sun, and the universe shone down on them as they did on all people.

For why else would stars exist? If they are just gases burning in the distance then perhaps the significance assigned to them is for our own good, but that same good that allows us hope when all appears dark. The kind of hope that says those stars are just the lights of lives lived and loved for us. Evidence of destiny calling to each of us to remind us that we are all connected in a greater plan. A plan where the intricacies of it might remind us of magic but are really just the workings of so many in a concert they do not understand for the betterment of all mankind.

They are there for when we lose our loves, our lives, and our laughter. For those moments when life bleeds of meaning and we struggle through the blankness of our existence until we discover the truth of it, under all the veils and covers life would use as distractions. Distractions so we forget that we all act as parts in a greater whole. A whole that requires the light born inside each of us be used for the person to whom it was promised long before we remember. The person who, perhaps without any more idea about it than we have, travels beside us on this voyage of life to match light with light and fight the darkness together.

That would suggest that the battle against darkness if not an eternal contest on great battlefields with clearly defined armies of good and evil but one life at a time on the battlefields of each man's heart over each man's soul.

Why else would so many things conspire to bring together two people who would never meet? Why else promise love to a woman dying before she had a chance to live and a man doomed to live long after he should have died? Why else grant a woman the chance to die but give her the will to live? Why else but that no one is more or less special than another because each person is as unique as they are insignificant but that the course of life is to find those to whom our unique light is a boon instead of a bane? Those people who prove that the universe would bend over backwards for each and every person… And that we might find ourselves lucky enough to see it.

No life is more important than another and nothing is without purpose. There is a great pattern, too great for the mortal to comprehend but when all things are light it will be clear and plain and a part of the deep intricacies that bind us together now. When our actions in life are complete, and the light welcomes us back into its embrace, we will find we have done all that we can do and rise up to reunite with those we loved most. That embrace, the joining of life, will bind us eternally to those we love, and become those same stars shining down to offer that light to those still waiting below.

A light born of the purest of loves.


End file.
